People vs Chegwidden
by Daenar
Summary: Harm and Mac have to go to their limits and beyond to save their fatherly friend from a seemingly hopeless situation... Part III of the 'Carnival' series, sequel to 'Dissonance'.
1. Chapter One

'PEOPLE VS. CHEGWIDDEN' (Part III of the 'Carnival' Series)  
  
Author: Daenar Rating: PG-13 Disclaimer: JAG is property of Belisarius productions, no copyright infringement intended.  
  
Category: Drama/Action/Romance (H/M)  
  
Spoiler: Harm and Mac have to go to their limits and beyond to save their fatherly friend from a seemingly hopeless situation. Sequel to 'Dissonance'.  
  
Many thanks to Kate and Valerie for highly appreciated contents advice. And, of course, to Heather for beta-reading!  
  
Author's note: The whole case is entirely fictional. No reference to any real cases involving real persons is intended. Any resemblances to real cases may be caused by using the osha-slc.gov-site for research on the medical part concerning the case. The medical information concerning the private lives of the main characters derives from a magazine article that I read years ago, describing the exact situation that I now used for the story.  
  
I don't know what the testing facility inside the NFESC looks like, so let's just pretend it looks like I describe it. I don't know, either, if tests like the one I refer to are even done at NFESC. Let's, please, pretend that, too.  
  
I'm no doctor, no lawyer and no aeronautical engineer, either. So, if anyone of you belonging to one of the categories finds my story getting overly unrealistic, just blame it on my overzealous fantasy, okay? Thank you!  
  
In my universe, Sergei and Singer didn't leave. And Meredith simply doesn't exist! ___________________________________________  
  
  
  
Sun, Feb. 14th 2133 ZULU The Roberts's residence D.C.  
  
  
  
Claire Farnham double-checked once more the red 'recording' light on her camcorder. Making sure that there would be enough tape left, too, she quickly retreated to the other end of the living-room where Harriet and Bobbi were setting the table. From a comfortable armchair nearby, Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb watched the whole scene, smiling, five-months-old Michael Harmon Roberts asleep in her arms.  
  
Right now, Mac was at peace with the whole world. The picture that Claire was trying to capture on videotape made it impossible not to be. Shifting little Mikey so that he wouldn't rest too heavily on her eight-months-plus pregnant belly, she leaned slightly forward to have a better view. Claire joined her on the sofa next to her armchair and even Bobbi and Harriet interrupted their task to draw nearer and watch in amusement:  
  
In the middle of a circle of about ten cheering kindergarten kids, all in costume, Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Sturgis Turner were facing each other, panting and grinning, each of them carrying a child on the back. Harm knew his sides would be black and blue in the evening from the way little AJ Roberts put the spurs to his 'horse' but he was enjoying himself way too much to really care. Raising his eyebrows to his Academy pal, Harm got a knowing grin in return. Tyler Crane, AJ's best friend from kindergarten, didn't treat his 'horse' too well, either, but Sturgis would never complain as long as Harm didn't. What kind of impression would that make on Bobbi?  
  
"Sir Albert, Sir Tyler, cross your swords," Admiral Chegwidden ceremoniously proclaimed. Harm and Sturgis came to stand nose to nose so that AJ and Tyler could make the long cardboard tubes touch that they were using as swords. The admiral looked over at Fred Prumetti who was holding a little flag high in the air and at Bud who held a hooter in his hand, grinning.  
  
Harm smirked at Sturgis. "Don't you dare knock me off my feet, buddy," he whispered threateningly.  
  
"I'll spare you for now," Sturgis hissed back, "But once AJ is off your back you'd better run."  
  
"Let's see who's going to run," Harm grinned.  
  
"Rabb, Turner, horses don't talk," the admiral thundered.  
  
"No, sir," came the automatic reply that caused four high-pitched fits of laughter from the far end of the room.  
  
"Can we start, Uncle AJ?" little AJ asked, his voice letting it show that he was impatient to win the final point that would make him the winner of the entire tournament.  
  
"Sure, Captain," the admiral smiled, then once again pulled himself up to full height. "Honorable knights, turn your horses around," he announced. Harm and Sturgis exchanged a last quick grin and then turned around until they stood back to back.  
  
"Resume your positions," the admiral said. Harm and Sturgis each made ten wide steps in opposite directions and came to a halt again.  
  
"Prepare," Chegwidden shouted, raising his arm. "May the best win! Attack!" With that, he let his arm come down quickly, signal for Fred to get down the flag and for Bud to honk the horn.  
  
Harm tried not to wince as he once again felt little AJ's heels make rough contact with his sides. Instead he lowered his head a little and galloped in Sturgis' direction, seeing him come towards him as well. As they were passing each other, a soft 'cloc' indicated that the cardboard tubes had found their targets, while a flash and a humming sound were a sure sign that Bud had managed to capture the crucial moment on celluloid. Harm and Sturgis came to a halt on their adversaries' starting positions. Harm felt a drop of sweat trickle slowly down his forehead, hoping it wouldn't directly make its way into his eyes because he couldn't wipe it away.  
  
On Chegwidden's signal, Bud and Fred repeated their tasks and Harm and Sturgis set off for clinch once again. Another 'cloc'. Harm inwardly groaned. That meant they'd have another go. He sincerely hoped that this time one of the eager little guys would miss and that his torment would be over. He was way too exhausted for his liking. Again, the commanders resumed their positions and the admiral gave the signal to attack. Just then, the drop of sweat finally made its way through Harm's eyebrow and right into his left eye. His vision slightly blurry, Harm galloped a little off track, making little AJ miss Tyler's weapon and instead giving Tyler the opportunity to pat AJ on the back with his cardboard tube.  
  
"Awww, Uncle Harm, you made me miss him!" Little AJ was more than a little upset.  
  
"So sorry, sport," Harm panted, slowly letting the boy slip to the ground, "But with sweat in my eye I couldn't see clearly."  
  
"I hereby solemnly proclaim Sir Tyler Crane winner of today's tournament!" the admiral declared. Cheers and clapping went up for the winner.  
  
Little AJ was still frowning at his godfather. Harm knelt down in front of him. "You know, an honorable knight congratulates the winner and offers him his service," he suggested with one eyebrow upraised high.  
  
AJ seemed to consider the advice. Finally, his face lit up. "Honor is somefing nice, isn't it?"  
  
Harm bit back a laugh. "Yes, it is. All officers have it, too, if they're good officers. Like your dad or Uncle AJ, for example."  
  
"And you?"  
  
"Yeah, Fred and Sturgis and me, too." Harm found it increasingly difficult not to laugh. "And your mom and Auntie Mac."  
  
"Okay." AJ had made up his mind. He went over to Tyler and then looked back up at Harm. "How do I... umm... what you said?"  
  
"You bow and say: 'Sir Tyler, I'm at your service.'" Harm explained. The others watched their exchange with ever-widening grins.  
  
"Umm, Sir Tyler," little AJ exercised a nearly perfect bow in front of his obviously flattered friend, "I'm at your surface." Then he proudly turned back to Harm. "Right?"  
  
"Yeah, right," he answered, chuckling. "Okay, enough for now. Your mom and Aunties Mac, Claire and Bobbi got the stuff ready to feed all of you honorable knights. Come on." He shooed the children to the extra-long coffee table that was set with brightly colored cardboard plates and plastic mugs. Screaming and laughing, the whole group of kids instantly climbed onto the chairs. Still grinning broadly and enjoying themselves tremendously, the five 'adult kids' joined the women.  
  
"Boy, I'm getting way too old for this," Admiral Chegwidden sighed and pressed a hand to the small of his back. He and Fred had had to play horse during the first three rounds as well until their riders had dropped out of the competition. AJ felt every single muscle in his body but his beaming face and the twinkle in his eyes belied his complaint: he was having the greatest time. When Harriet had called and invited him to help with his little namesake's carnival party he'd instantly agreed, at the same time feeling a slight pang at the thought that he should have done those kind of things with his own family, not that of one of his officers. But he had quickly consoled himself. 'JAG is my family. They're all my kids, and even when they call me 'sir', it somehow feels like 'dad'. So don't be sorry for yourself, Chegwidden, you have all the family you could want to have.'  
  
AJ watched as Bud walked over and took little Mikey from Mac's lap. Family life had never worked out for him. He and Marcella were too different. AJ had been young and ambitious, trying to advance his career, and although he'd hated to do so, he'd had to leave her and Francesca by themselves far too often. But he had thought that, once he'd established a decent professional life, it would become the basis for a happy family. What AJ hadn't expected was that, by that time, he'd have lost his wife. Not to another man but to an increasing despair that had built up in her because of him, the man who always left her alone. Francesca hardly knew him when he and Marcella finally split. And until many, many years later, AJ hadn't known that Marcella would have wanted him to come back until she had finally drawn the line and remarried.  
  
There had been other women in AJ's life, of course, after his failed marriage. But he had never come close to thinking about a family again, except for once... AJ quickly banished the memory from his conscious. After the Danny-affair, he and Sydney Walden had been unable to exchange even a single friendly word. But it still hurt that it had to have ended that way. They had shared very beautiful moments.  
  
"Uncle AJ!" Little AJ's voice woke the admiral from his reverie. He bent down to the excited boy.  
  
"Hey, Captain! What's up?"  
  
"Uncle AJ, you must come and sit wif us and tell us somefing about pirates!" The little boy tugged at AJ's hand and looked up at him expectantly.  
  
"AJ Roberts, let Uncle AJ have his coffee first!" Harriet shouted from the couch.  
  
"It's okay, Harriet," AJ shouted back, laughing, "Maybe you could bring me a cup to the children's table. So I can let Bobbi and Claire have a little break."  
  
"Sure, sir!" Harriet instantly busied herself with the admiral's mug, grinning to herself. She loved watching her CO become a family man. It did him good.  
  
AJ let himself be dragged towards the crowd of kids that were eager to listen. Sitting down on little AJ's chair and taking his namesake to his lap, the admiral grinned at the expectant children. "So, you want to know something about pirates? Well, how about... uhm... yeah, let's start with this one: about three hundred years ago, in a region far south from here, there was..."  
  
"He's great with them," Harm murmured in Mac's direction as he sat down on the armrest of her armchair, his eyes never leaving his CO.  
  
"Yeah." Mac watched with a content smile as the children began to ask questions that AJ readily answered. Little AJ beamed with pride about his Uncle, the Admiral. After a few moments, Mac decided to turn her attention back to the conversation between the adults.  
  
"How's the Cramer case going, sir?" Bud asked Harm.  
  
The commander shrugged. "I went to question the Lt. Cmdr. yesterday. Evidence seems pretty clear. She left her research team alone for a few moments when the test had already begun. The engine was running in neutral when the injection pump failed to control the amount of fuel that evaporated into the system. She claims she had to get her testing checklist from the control room. We have a witness that confirms this. Lt. Cmdr. Cramer explains that the engine would have blown anyway because the damaged part that probably caused the explosion was actually inside the combustion chamber. It wouldn't have been discovered in any prior inspection. It seems the engine was checked the day before, and everything, according to the protocols, went smoothly. So no one would have checked again before testing. And had Cramer been present, she wouldn't have been able to stop it, either. She'd most probably be at Bethesda right now, with the three injured engineers and technicians. That's it."  
  
"Sir, you're gonna base your defense on the fact that her presence wouldn't have prevented anything?" Fred asked with a grin. "Sorry, Commander, that's not gonna work."  
  
Harm frowned. "Sturg, could you tell your second chair he'd better wipe that grin off his face? He's not seen Mac and me together in court, yet."  
  
Sturgis leaned over with an angelic smile. "Who's afraid of the big, bad Rabb...?"  
  
"I'm only sorry that right now I'm not in combat shape," Mac snapped with a cocky smile. "If I were..."  
  
"Hey," Sturgis replied, laughing, holding his hands up in defense, "I'd never dare to insult a Marine!"  
  
"Better for you, bubblehead..." Harm murmured, only half-joking.  
  
"Anyway, brace yourself, Rabbs," Fred just added, exchanging a quick, grinning nod with Sturgis.  
  
"Uhm, sir," Bud cut in thoughtfully. "It strikes me as kind of odd that a skilled and experienced engineer would leave something as essential as her checklist in another room."  
  
Harm's face sobered. "To admit the truth, that's the only part that I don't really understand either. But as her defense counsel, I believe her when she tells me she'd had personal problems that day with her husband. But still that's not very professional behavior. You're right about that."  
  
Just then, they heard the shrill beeping of a cell-phone somewhere in the room. A moment later, AJ called out to them: "Could anybody just take over with the kids for a moment, please?"  
  
"Sure, sir." Harm rose and took his godson from the admiral who lunged into his pocket and, pulling out his cell-phone, quickly left the room.  
  
"So, guys," Harm faced ten disappointed faces, "What did the admiral tell you? Maybe I can finish it until he comes back."  
  
Closing the kitchen door behind him, AJ flipped his cell-phone open without glancing at the display. "Chegwidden."  
  
"AJ?"  
  
The admiral jumped at the sound of her voice.  
  
"This is Sydney."  
  
"Uhm... Sydney. Hi. What can I do for you?" His reply was as guarded as he could bring about.  
  
"Er... I'm sorry, I really feel stupid about calling but..." she paused, seemingly distressed. AJ simply waited for her to go on. "AJ, I... there's something I need to show you. It scares me and I don't know what to make of it."  
  
He could hear highway noises through the receiver. "Where are you?" he asked warily.  
  
"I'm calling from a phone booth somewhere off the Beltway. I'm on my way home now. Could you... could you please meet me there in half an hour?" Sydney's voice had quite an uneasy edge.  
  
AJ frowned. He didn't really want to see her, especially as it probably had something to do with her darling Danny, who'd probably gotten into trouble again. But he still was too much of a gentleman to reject a plea for help. "Uhm... sure. I'll be there."  
  
Silence. Then a low, somewhat relieved "Thanks, AJ." The line went dead.  
  
For a minute, AJ just stared at his cell-phone, puzzled. Then, sighing, he snapped it shut and returned to join the others.  
  
"Uhm..." he cleared his throat. Everybody, except the children, of course, instantly looked at him. "I'm sorry, but something's come up. I've got to meet someone." He smiled and tried to keep his tone light and succeeded in fooling everybody but Mac who shot him a quick worried glance.  
  
"That's a pity, sir, but duty's duty," Harriet sighed with a good-natured smile, rising to show her CO to the door.  
  
"Sir, anything we could help you with?" Mac ventured carefully.  
  
AJ smiled. "I'll be okay. See you tomorrow, all of you!"  
  
"Aye, sir!" came a collective, smirking reply.  
  
'I just love those big kids!' AJ thought as he left the house, chuckling to himself.  
  
The party continued for some time before a second cell-phone started to ring. Instantly recognizing Mac's melody, Harm gave her a hand up as she struggled to get up from the deep, soft armchair, handing her her purse and watching her vanish into the kitchen, as well.  
  
Mac leaned back against the kitchen counter, flipping her cell-phone open with her left hand, resting her right hand on her belly as she had gotten used to during the last months. "Rabb?"  
  
"Mac? This is Chegwidden." His voice was low, guarded and somewhat strained.  
  
Mac instantly snapped to Marine-mode. "Sir? Everything okay?"  
  
To her astonishment, she heard a bitter chuckle. "Not quite. Get your husband and meet me at the D.C. police department. I might need my lawyers."  
  
She drew a sharp breath, dreading the next question. She'd instantly known that something was troubling him when he left the party. "What happened?" she asked, her stomach tightening.  
  
"I've just been arrested for the murder of Doctor Sydney Walden."  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	2. Chapter Two

'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Two Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part one:  
  
Mac leaned back against the kitchen counter, flipping her cell-phone open with her left hand, resting her right hand on her belly as she had gotten used to during the last months. "Rabb?"  
  
"Mac? This is Chegwidden." His voice was low, guarded and somewhat strained.  
  
Mac instantly snapped to Marine-mode. "Sir? Everything okay?"  
  
To her astonishment, she heard a bitter chuckle. "Not quite. Get your husband and meet me at the D.C. police department. I might need my lawyers."  
  
She drew a sharp breath, dreading the next question. She'd instantly known that something was troubling him when he left the party. "What happened?" she asked, her stomach tightening.  
  
"I've just been arrested for the murder of Doctor Sydney Walden."  
  
  
  
Part Two:  
  
Mon, Feb. 15th 0112 ZULU D.C. Police Department Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Easy, Marine," Harm admonished her as he tried to catch up to his wife who was literally running up the stairs that led to the entrance of the building. "The little one doesn't like to be shaken."  
  
Mac obediently slowed down her pace and smiled at him. "I'm sorry. It's just... I'm worried."  
  
"Hey, that's okay." Harm put his arm around her shoulders upon reaching her. He cast her a warm smile that didn't quite succeed in hiding his own uneasiness. "I don't feel too good myself. But we mustn't lose our heads right now. Maybe we can straighten this out in a few days." He sighed.  
  
"Yeah..." Mac couldn't quite bring herself to believe him. Her sense of foreboding had proven right once too often by now. Absentmindedly, she gently stroked her belly as if she were asking her daughter to forgive her for running.  
  
They showed their military IDs to the policeman on duty and were led to their 'client'. AJ was already sitting in the small interrogation room when they entered. Mac was shocked when she saw his face. His expression had lost the aura of unperturbed calm and control that it normally held. AJ somehow looked haunted and... vulnerable. Neither of the Rabbs had ever seen their CO like this.  
  
"Admiral..." Mac instantly walked up to him and as he rose to greet her, gentleman to the last, she hugged him tightly, hesitating only for the briefest moment, causing him to jump slightly in surprise. Harm just stepped close to them and silently placed his hand on AJ's shoulder.  
  
AJ briefly closed his eyes. He had felt very lonely when he had first been asked if he wanted to inform his family that he had been arrested. "No, just my lawyers," he had answered. The Rabbs' reaction upon seeing him had reassured him that he did indeed have a family, sort of. Right now, this knowledge caused enormous relief. Clearing his throat, AJ after a few moments drew back from Mac's embrace and stated in an overly gruff voice: "Now, Colonel, you don't even know if I'm guilty or not."  
  
Mac knew he had meant it to be an embarrassed joke but nevertheless she earnestly looked at him. "You're not."  
  
"Well, right. Good intuition." AJ rumbled on, confusedly looking around as if to search for chairs that he could offer to his officers.  
  
Harm decided to help his CO keep his countenance and get into the matter. He pulled up a chair for his wife and helped Mac sit down before lowering himself onto another chair after AJ had again taken his seat at the other side of the small table. "What exactly happened, sir?"  
  
AJ studied his hands as if in deep thought. It took him a full minute to respond. Harm felt Mac's cold hand clench his fingers. They waited.  
  
"You remember that call I received at the Roberts'?" AJ finally looked up to meet his officers' worried glances. It wasn't a question. The Rabbs only nodded.  
  
"That was Sydney. She sounded somewhat troubled." AJ paused and with his right hand wiped his face, sighing. "I was..." looking down, he let out a sad chuckle before facing his friends again with a gruff helpless half- grin. "You can imagine that I was rather surprised."  
  
"I guess," Mac answered with a warm smile. Harm silently returned AJ's grin, never letting go of Mac's hand.  
  
"Well," AJ went on, almost matter-of-factly. "She was calling from a phone booth somewhere off the Beltway as if she didn't dare to call from a personal phone. And she asked me to come and meet her at her house in half an hour. Said she wanted to tell me something that she'd come across and didn't know what to make of it. She seemed scared."  
  
"And you went to see her," Harm concluded, careful to wear an absolutely neutral expression on his face and to keep his voice guarded. He didn't want AJ to notice that he was surprised that the admiral had so deliberately complied.  
  
AJ's smile was sarcastic. "What was I supposed to do? Ignore an obvious plea for help? I'm an officer, Commander, in case you didn't know."  
  
Harm knew better than to feel offended. He could distinguish no traces of hurt or reprimand in his CO's voice. This was just Chegwidden's way to react to a situation that emotionally shook him and endangered his usual unperturbed calm state of mind.  
  
Mac thought it wise to take over. "And what did you find when you got to her?"  
  
"Her." AJ's voice was tight and he stared right through Mac's glance, not seeing anything. "The door wasn't locked so when she didn't answer the bell I just walked in. Then I found her. In the entrance, stabbed with a butcher's knife. She was still conscious."  
  
The last words had come out in a mere whisper. Mac's grip on Harm's hand tightened painfully. But before either of them could even think of what to reply to AJ's horrible tale, the admiral went on, as if on autopilot, still staring into the great nothing, not acknowledging his friends' presence.  
  
"I wasn't thinking of the consequences. I called 911 and knelt down to support her, tossing aside the knife. I should have known I was acting foolishly. I mean, cases like this one cross our desks every so often. But I... I... wasn't able to think. All I knew was that a woman that meant a lot to me was dying, right there, before my eyes. And I couldn't do anything to prevent it. All I could do was hold her."  
  
Harm swallowed. He didn't want to intrude his friend's grief but they had to get back to the hard facts. "So... your fingerprints would be on the doorbell and on the knife and..." he helplessly looked over to his wife in whose huge dark eyes he could only detect the same dread he was feeling himself right now.  
  
"And I was found with her, yes." AJ had shaken himself from his state of haze and regained his usual gruffness. "Danny came in and... well... jumped to conclusions. And then the police and the ambulance arrived. The paramedics couldn't do anything."  
  
"Were there any traces of a fight, sir?" Mac tried to keep her voice steady, switching to Marine-mode. She hoped the professional distance might help to prevent the situation from getting out of hand. Her co-workers instantly followed her example.  
  
"No. She must have opened the door herself and been completely surprised by the attack. And there were no other fingerprints on the doorknob or on the knife. Somehow the attacker must have known I'd come to see her and thought it wise to let me play the role of the suspect. CSI wasn't able to find any other traces whatsoever until now. And Danny didn't really come to my aid by telling the police that his mother had been thinking about calling me for a couple of days but didn't dare to. He told them that she feared seeing me and that they both couldn't imagine how I'd react and that he'd begged his mother to keep me out of it all because, as he put it, 'Chegwidden's always wanted to interfere and tell us how to live our lives.' So that's it." It was obvious that AJ had no delusions about his present status as the primary suspect, given all the evidence against him.  
  
"Do you have any idea what Dr. Walden could have wanted to tell you, sir?" Harm asked.  
  
AJ frowned. "None whatsoever. I can only assume it had something to do with Darling Danny."  
  
"We'll get into the matter first thing in the morning, sir," Mac said. "Any instructions for the office?"  
  
AJ smiled. "I guess it would be useless to try to dissuade my chief of staff from defending me? Given her state, that is."  
  
Mac smiled back, glad the mood had somehow lightened. She put her hand on her belly. "Our little Trisha just let me know that she wants no one other than her mommy and daddy to defend Uncle AJ. So I fear it's a hopeless case, sir."  
  
"I see. Harm, I want you to take over as temporary JAG, though. I know it would have been Mac's task but I don't know how long this is gonna take and before long Mommy will be occupied at home. Right? So, Mac, I'll let you defend me, but you'll still start your maternity leave tomorrow, understood?" AJ looked at his officers.  
  
"Aye, sir," they replied in unison, smiling.  
  
AJ rose from his chair, his officers immediately following suit. "Go home now and get some sleep, will you? Especially you, Mac. I'll be all right."  
  
Once again Mac hugged her CO and silently stepped aside. Harm took the hand that his CO offered him and squeezed it tightly. "We won't let you down, sir. We'll get you out of this." His gaze was intense.  
  
The admiral gave him a half-smile in return. "Don't make promises you can't keep, son."  
  
"I haven't yet." Harm smiled a little slyly.  
  
"I'll watch him closely, sir," Mac cut in with a smirk. Then she sobered and took Harm's hand. "But you have our word of honor."  
  
"Well, right." AJ let the old gruffness return to his voice to hide his emotion. "Anyway, even if you don't get me out of this, I know you won't let me down, guys. And now go home and get some rest. Or do I have to make it an order?"  
  
"No, sir," Harm grinned. He put his arm around Mac's shoulders and guided her outside. AJ watched them leave, a sad smile on his face. 'I'm not so sure you'll convince those people of my innocence, Commander,' he thought. 'But I thank you for taking the family part.'  
  
  
  
Mon, Feb. 15th 0542 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA  
  
  
  
"Harm?"  
  
"Hmm?" Sheets began to rustle at Mac's right side and a moment later she felt her husband's face hovering near her own. "What's up? My favorite Marine can't sleep?" She could hear the smile in his voice through the darkness.  
  
Smiling herself, she reached up with one hand and stroked his temple with her fingertips. "Not really."  
  
"Care to share?"  
  
"It's the admiral," she sighed.  
  
"Come here." Harm lifted the blanket to allow Mac to move closer. She turned to lie on the other side and spooned up to him. He immediately encircled her in his arms and pulled her close. They lay in silence for a couple of minutes, silently enjoying each other's closeness. Then Mac spoke up.  
  
"The situation is pretty desperate, isn't it?"  
  
Harm gently kissed her neck and sighed. "Yeah. If Sydney's murderer really wanted to make it look like the admiral did it and if CSI doesn't come up with something really quick, we'll have nothing but the missing motive to base our defense on."  
  
"That's not enough."  
  
"No, it isn't. We'll have to have a little conversation with Petty Officer Third Class Daniel Walden, I suppose." Harm's voice held a tight edge. "If she knew her attacker I wouldn't be surprised if he came from Danny's former friends' sphere of influence. I'd really hoped the Navy would straighten him out but obviously it didn't work."  
  
"Remember to give him the benefit of a doubt," Mac calmly admonished. "Sure, he's the first lead we have and we'll start looking for a link to his drug-dealing friends, but there might as well be something totally different involved. Don't jump to conclusions, Commander."  
  
"Aye, ma'am." Harm's silent chuckle made his breath caress her neck and sent a shiver down her spine. For a moment they were silent. Then Mac sighed.  
  
"You know, sailor, somehow I've been dreading something like this. I mean, hasn't life been just too perfect during these last months? Listen: first we get married. I'm pregnant with a seemingly healthy child. Then we find this wonderful house, like you promised, with a huge front porch swing and a lovely garden. Neither of us has to transfer out of JAG. Harriet has another adorable little son. Bud finishes his rehab and returns to full duty. Fred prolongs his stay in Washington. Jeannine's boyfriend leaves her and as she comes to visit us for Christmas, she falls in love with Sergei and makes him forget about Singer. Something just had to happen." Mac involuntarily shivered.  
  
Harm tightened his embrace. "Shhh," he whispered soothingly, "Now don't you dare feel guilty for being happy, Marine. You, of all people, deserve all this, after that hell of a youth you had. Don't get the distorted idea that Chegwidden's trial is some sort of poetic justice for your personal happiness. The admiral himself would court-martial you for that, you know."  
  
Mac, with a content sigh, snuggled even closer to her husband. "I know. It's just kind of hard to accept. And I'm really worried about him. After Uncle Matt, the admiral's been the closest thing to a father I ever had."  
  
"Me, too," came Harm's somewhat strained, low answer, "Even though I always had Frank. But I know how you feel, honey."  
  
Mac suddenly realized that Harm was taking this whole affair far harder than he had wanted to make her see. 'Stupid squid,' she gently scolded him in her thoughts, 'This leaning-on thing is supposed to be mutual, remember?' She carefully turned in his arms and kissed him softly. "I'm only glad that we have each other."  
  
Even in the darkness she could see his beautiful, warm smile light up his face. "Tell me about it, Sarah." His hands were gently caressing her back. "I love you."  
  
"I love you, too, Harm." Mac closed her eyes and buried her face in the curve of his neck. After a few moments he heard her muffled voice. "Make love to me, Harm?"  
  
"You want me to?" he gently asked. "What does the little one say about it?"  
  
Mac softly wriggled out of his embrace and, with a quick, smooth movement, removed her silk nightgown to reveal her belly. "Ask her," she invited him, smiling.  
  
Harm shook his head, chuckling, and placed a loving kiss on her navel. Then he put his flat hands on the impressive swell. "Hey, Trisha," he said softly, "Would you mind if I showed your mommy how much I love her?" He waited a few seconds until he had felt his tiny daughter move. "It's okay with her," he declared with a smug smile, letting Mac remove his T-shirt and then pull him down to her.  
  
"Could have told you," Mac murmured against his mouth before she let herself be swept away by Harm's tender caresses.  
  
  
  
Mon., Feb. 15th 1411 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
With long, quick strides, Harm crossed the bullpen from the elevator right to the admiral's office. "At ease, everyone listen." The staff turned expectantly and the room fell silent.  
  
Harm felt far less confident than he tried to appear. How do you tell your subordinates that their CO has just been arrested for murder? Anyway, the sooner he got it over with, the better it would be. He and Mac hadn't revealed any of the particulars when they had left the Roberts' party to join the admiral. So the news would be equally shocking for everyone. Harm could tell by the way Harriet, Bud, Sturgis and Fred were exchanging quick worried glances, that speculation had already reached its high point when Chegwidden hadn't arrived at his usual time this morning. Better at once relieve the tension of insecurity.  
  
"The admiral asks me to inform you that yesterday he was arrested by the Washington police."  
  
A collective gasp floated through the room. A 'thud' indicated that Tiner had dropped the book he had been holding.  
  
Harm swallowed and went on. "Admiral Chegwidden is accused of the murder of Doctor Sydney Walden. We all know that is not true, but the task will fall on Colonel Rabb and me to prove it. With the colonel starting her maternity leave today, the admiral has put me in charge of headquarters as temporary JAG. We'll hold our first staff meeting at 1500. That is all. Dismissed." He turned and entered AJ's office, pointedly closing the door behind himself. Half a minute later, he quietly opened it again and pushed it slightly ajar to be able to see his coworkers' reaction to his dreadful news.  
  
Harriet had paled visibly and was right now in Bud's arms, the lieutenant holding her tightly and seemingly at a loss about what to say. Tiner and Sturgis were quietly discussing possible consequences, should the case go further than the Article-32 hearing. Fred could be seen in his office, firmly holding on to the receiver of his telephone as if it were some sort of an anchor. He was obviously trying to call Claire. And Singer was sitting at her desk, staring blankly at her monitor, not moving for an entire two minutes. But somehow Harm refused to believe that Miss Icebreaker could have been shaken by his news. Carefully, he closed his door and with a sigh sat down in AJ's chair that all of a sudden seemed huge.  
  
A little while later, he heard a knock on the door. Tiner popped his head in. "Lt. Singer would like to see you, sir."  
  
'That's what I needed.' Sighing, Harm nodded. "Tell her to come in, Tiner."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
The lieutenant stepped into the room and came to attention in front of him. To his astonishment, Harm detected a somewhat unsure and... guilty look on her face.  
  
"At ease, Lieutenant. You wanted to talk to me?"  
  
Singer's gaze never wavered but her voice seemed slightly tight. "Yes, sir. Sir... I thought I should inform you about a phone call I just received." She waited for Harm's reaction.  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"It was about the admiral's Article-32 hearing. I suppose the normal procedure would have been to call you first, sir, as you're the temporary JAG. But the officer who called me told me she wanted to talk to me first. And she asked me to sit second chair to prosecution. I declined."  
  
Harm willed his eyebrows to stay in place. Singer had declined an offer such as this? Of her own free will? And even more, she'd come to him and informed him about a call she had received from some high-ranking officer that could be in the position to push her career? Did miracles ever cease to happen?  
  
"May I ask why you declined the offer, Lieutenant?" he ventured, trying to sound neutral.  
  
Singer's mouth showed the thinnest of cynical smiles. "I suppose you're surprised that I did, sir. Actually, I'm surprised myself. But I did attend the Academy once, too, Commander, and I haven't been as completely unreceptive to the Code of Honor as you may think. The admiral may not like me. But he's always been fair. And, frankly, I don't think he did kill Doctor Walden. So I won't be the means of some personal revenge crusade that some navy captain unknown to me seems to want to pull against him. And his defense counsels, for that matter."  
  
Harm had to admit he was impressed. He could tell from Singer's expression that, had the person in question been someone else, she would immediately have taken the opportunity to advance her career. But she seemed to value the admiral as a just person and obviously didn't like the idea of being used for ulterior, personal motives of whoever it was who took the prosecution. 'Wait a minute,' he suddenly told himself, 'A captain? She? A personal revenge crusade against certain members of this office? It couldn't be...' He sat up straight in his chair and locked his gaze with Singer's.  
  
"What was the name of the captain who called you, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Captain Allison Krennick, sir."  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - appreciated!) 


	3. Chapter Three

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Three Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part two:  
  
Singer's mouth showed the thinnest of cynical smiles. "I suppose you're surprised that I did, sir. Actually, I'm surprised myself. But I did attend the Academy once, too, Commander, and I haven't been as completely unreceptive to the Code of Honor as you may think. The admiral may not like me. But he's always been fair. And, frankly, I don't think he did kill Doctor Walden. So I won't be the means of some personal revenge crusade that some navy captain unknown to me seems to want to pull against him. And his defense counsels, for that matter."  
  
Harm had to admit he was impressed. He could tell from Singer's expression that, had the person in question been someone else, she would immediately have taken the opportunity to advance her career. But she seemed to value the admiral as a just person and obviously didn't like the idea of being used for ulterior, personal motives of whoever it was who took the prosecution. 'Wait a minute,' he suddenly told himself, 'A captain? She? A personal revenge crusade against certain members of this office? It couldn't be...' He sat up straight in his chair and locked his gaze with Singer's.  
  
"What was the name of the captain who called you, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Captain Allison Krennick, sir."  
  
  
  
Part Three:  
  
Tue, Feb. 16th 1534 ZULU Walden residence  
  
  
  
Yellow tape, reading 'Police - do not cross', was fluttering in the strong wind. The police had secured a vast area all around Sydney Walden's house. The street where she lived had been blocked, keeping out any onlookers and any journalists, too, which was fortunate as the case had already begun to attract public attention. The U.S. Navy's JAG arrested for murder - ratings had gone up for the news networks ever since word of the affair had leaked out.  
  
The clouds hanging over Harm were just as thick and gray as the ones currently coming in from the north, telling of a nearing blizzard. Harm carefully steered the navy blue JAG sedan through the crowd of zealous reporters, keeping the windows shut tightly. No way would he issue a single comment right now.  
  
The whole of yesterday afternoon and a good part of the evening he and Mac had spent reading Daniel Walden's service record, the process files of his drug-dealing trial, information about the background of his former friends, general information about the latest developments on the narcotics market, everything. They had had long and frustrating telephone conversations with the police investigators, trying every possible way to come up with an idea of where to look for further evidence, but it all came to nothing. No traces, no clues, nothing on the list of telephone calls Sydney or Danny, who was on leave right now, had made, no unusual developments or events connected to Sydney's medical practice or to her or Danny's financial situation. Danny's service record still remained clean even after triple scrutiny. The seemingly obvious solution to this case was that the admiral had killed her - at least according to the DCPD.  
  
They had tried to find out what Sydney might have wanted to tell AJ. Harm had gone to her practice and questioned all the nurses. None of them had the slightest idea of what the nature of her news might have been. And none of them had even noticed that she might have been troubled by something. She seemed to have concealed it well. Without much hope, he and Mac would now try to find something in her house, although it had already been searched several times by the local investigators. Webb was in Afghanistan and out of reach. Damn. Of course, he would have to be gone the one time they really needed him.  
  
And then there was Krennick. 'Captain' Krennick. Harm frowned. Sure, she had always been his superior in rank, but somehow he couldn't help wondering how on earth a disagreeable person like her would succeed in getting herself promoted. It couldn't have been for outstanding professional success. He'd have heard about that. Opposing her in court would be difficult, though. He was the more skilled lawyer, matched only by his wife, but Krennick was cunning and potentially dangerous. She tended to have aces hidden up her sleeve. At least this time he would be spared her non-too-subtle personal approaches. Harm cast a quick look at his left hand on the steering wheel. The thin gold band on his fourth finger still amazed him every time he saw it. The hint of a smile for a moment softened the lines on his forehead. Everything seemed half as hard to endure if you knew you had Sarah Mackenzie at your side.  
  
"Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb and Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., from the JAG corps," Harm told the policeman at the cordon, showing him their IDs. "We're Admiral Chegwidden's defense counselors." If the policeman was astonished to see that one of the lawyers was obviously very pregnant, he didn't show it. He let them pass, shooing off the reporters that, for the present, had to be content to have at least caught the names of the defendant's attorneys. And they were married. Might be worth the while to do a little research on the admiral's and his officers' personal background. Family stories always worked well.  
  
Harm parked the car in front of the house and quickly went to help his wife get out. He was glad that Mac had somehow overcome her stubborn Marine pride after the insulin attack she had suffered back at the naval college. The few dreadful moments of insecurity, not knowing if her child would live, had taught her to accept the help of others for the sake of her daughter. So, whenever Harm would now offer her a hand or an arm to help her get up, sit down or anything, she would always take it and give him a grateful smile in return. And Harm was glad to be able to play the gallant knight. But he also knew that, in a few weeks' time, it would all be over. As soon as their daughter would be born, he was sure that Mac would instantly take up her stubborn Semper-Fi attitude again. The same stubborn Semper-Fi attitude he had fallen in love with so many years ago.  
  
They entered the house and were at once greeted by a tall man in a dark suit. "Colonel, Commander, I am Special Agent Colin Spearman, FBI. I'm conducting this investigation."  
  
Harm and Mac exchanged a surprised glance. The Feds? "Cmdr. Harmon Rabb, Jr., JAG corps. And this is my partner, Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb," Harm introduced them.  
  
Spearman cast a quick glance at Mac's maternity uniform and then at the wedding bands the officers wore. Then he looked up and flashed them a puzzled, but sincere smile. "Congratulations."  
  
With his most charming flyboy-grin, Harm simply replied: "Thank you, Agent Spearman." And the topic was passed over.  
  
"Tell me, Agent Spearman," Mac spoke up, curious, "When did the Bureau take over? And why?"  
  
"When your husband called the PD yesterday and informed them about a possible connection to drug-trafficking and dealing, the investigators decided to contact us, ma'am," Spearman explained. "Although we still can't establish any hints between the actual case and the Daniel Walden trial by now," he added, casting an almost excusing look in Harm's direction. "But if you would like to take a look around... maybe you can find something that we didn't." He didn't sound too convinced.  
  
Mac turned to follow Spearman upstairs whereas Harm decided to examine the ground floor. He knelt down as he reached a spot where the carpet was covered with large stains of dried blood and footprints that he easily recognized as the admiral's. Few people in D.C. wore original Italian Valleverde shoes. After a moment, a shadow fell over him. He looked up and willed himself to refrain from groaning.  
  
"Hello Commander. Nice to see you again. It's been too long." Allison Krennick's smile hadn't changed for the better. It still seemed calculated and threatening.  
  
Harm rose and came to attention. "Captain..."  
  
"At ease. So, you and your partner are storming to the rescue of your friend?" She gave him a small, not unfriendly, pitying frown. "Might very well turn out to be a hopeless case."  
  
"I don't think so, ma'am," Harm answered evenly.  
  
Krennick moved a little closer and lowered her voice. "It might depend on the negotiating qualities of the admiral's lawyers."  
  
Inwardly swearing, Harm still managed to smile. He wouldn't be impolite. But if he had to be direct, he sure as hell would. Bless Mac for her excellent timing. At that very moment she descended the stairs again and, with a smile that everyone except Harm would have judged brilliant, neared the two navy officers and came to attention.  
  
"Captain Krennick, ma'am."  
  
"At ease." Krennick let her gaze wander openly up and down Mac's body. "I guess congratulations are in order, Colonel," she stated in a guarded voice.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am." Mac's smile never faltered. Harm tried hard to hide his grin.  
  
"Well, who is the lucky one?" Krennick smugly winked at her, casting Harm a quick See-other-people-aren't-as-stiff-as-you glance.  
  
At this Harm stepped up to Mac and put his arm around her shoulders. "Captain, I guess you already know my wife, Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb?"  
  
Krennick's eyes popped open for a fraction of a second but she quickly controlled her reaction. "Yes, I do. Only that I wasn't aware that you were married. On the file it only read 'Mackenzie'. Well, Colonel, seems you've tamed the lone pirate. My compliments. Harm..." With a nod to both of them, she quickly turned and went to find Spearman.  
  
Having saluted the captain, Harm gave his wife a quick loving smile. She returned it, squeezing his hand. Then they turned back to business.  
  
"Did you find anything upstairs?"  
  
"No. Seems Sydney didn't keep many things in her bedroom. Mostly clothes and a few toiletteries. No documents. Danny's room is practically empty. He only sleeps there and keeps his belongings on the Coral Sea. I don't think football equipment and old toys are what we're looking for. The third room's a guestroom. Nothing to see. And you?"  
  
Harm sighed. "Nothing down here. I was just examining the bloodstains when Krennick appeared. If you take a look at the kitchen and the living room, I'll go over the folders on her desk in the little home studio," he proposed.  
  
"Okay with me." Mac disappeared into the kitchen and Harm went over to Sydney's desk to lower himself on the chair and open the drawers.  
  
Two hours later they were on their way back to Arlington. Harm wanted to drop Mac off at home, leaving her safely on the sofa, legs up, a cup of tea by her side and lots and lots of pages he had found in Sydney's desk for her to read. Harm didn't really expect that Mac would find anything in the files he had taken with him. But as she hadn't been able to discover any hints, either, on what must have troubled their CO's former girlfriend, the documents were their final thread of hope. Both officers were rather silent; frustration and worry once again clouding their good humor. Suddenly, Mac's cell-phone rang. Frowning, she attached it to the car's intercom and flipped it open.  
  
"Rabb."  
  
"Lt. Col. Sarah Mackenzie-Rabb? This is Kimberly Archer, 'People' Magazine. Colonel, our readers remember you and the commander from our news coverage regarding the Dwayne Myers band concert at Carnegie Hall. They are keenly interested in the Chegwidden affair and in how you and Cmdr. Rabb deal with the situation that must be hard for you, especially in your state. We would like to set a date for an exclusive interview with the two of you, say, next week?"  
  
Mac and Harm exchanged a quick, incredulous stare. How on earth had that woman gotten Mac's private cell-phone number? Surely Tiner had been fooled by some make-believe explanation, stressing the importance of reaching the colonel.  
  
"Colonel? Are you still with me?" Kimberly Archer was getting a little impatient as the silence lingered on.  
  
"Uhm... yeah." Mac cleared her throat. "Miss Archer, we..."  
  
She didn't get any further. The journalist, probably smiling widely and signaling 'thumbs up' to her colleagues, cut in. "Great. So, what do you say? How about Monday? That would leave us another two days for a few nice cover photos."  
  
"Miss Archer..." Mac tried to be patient.  
  
"We could also do it all in one day if that's more convenient for you. I could drop by at your house with my photographer so people would get a nice impression, too, of how you live."  
  
"Excuse me, Miss Archer, but..." Mac's articulation was decidedly more pointed this time but the reporter went on, obviously not even noticing that the subject of her article had something to say.  
  
"So I guess, we'd have to schedule our meeting for the evening, so your husband's at home, right? We could..."  
  
"I beg your pardon!!!" Mac yelled in boot-camp voice, causing the joyful babble to stop immediately. Mac earned herself an appreciative flyboy-grin as she went on, very calmly, very clearly and deadly serious. "Miss Archer, I don't know how you've come by this number but let me point out a few facts to you. First: my husband and I are 'not' interested in any interviews whatsoever. Second: the way you drag people's private lives into public while - or worse, because - one of the Navy's finest officers is fighting unjust charges is simply disgusting. And third: don't - you - ever - dare - call - this - number - again!! Do I make myself clear??" Harm grinned as he imagined the journalist holding her cell-phone at a two-feet distance from her ear, wincing.  
  
"You did indeed, ma'am," came the very quiet answer.  
  
"Fine. Have a nice day, Miss Archer," Mac said in a honeyed voice and, grinning, snapped the cell-phone shut.  
  
"You could have made an appointment and then shot her, you know..." Harm chuckled softly.  
  
"I'm one of the impatient kind," Mac replied with a lopsided grin.  
  
"Thanks for reminding me."  
  
For a while they rode on in silence. Mac from the corner of her eye looked over at her husband. His concern showed clearly on his face, from the frown on his forehead to his narrowed eyes and the thin line of his tightly set mouth. She sighed.  
  
"Any ideas what we tell Judge Helfman tomorrow morning?"  
  
"No."  
  
"I'll go over all those pages until you come home. I'll have them done when you get back," she offered, wanting to ease his worries. Not that she didn't share them, far from it. She was extremely worried about the case. But her Marine shell would at least prevent her from being eaten up alive by her fears. Harm, on the other hand, was at the verge of plunging himself into the matter so deeply that he once again threatened to drown in it. Like with his father. Like with Darlyn Lewis. Like he maybe would have with her own trial or with Sergei's case, had the matters not been resolved relatively quickly. It was in his character to overstep the boundaries of his own strength if anyone he cared about was involved. And it was a trait of his personality that she deeply loved, although it scared her.  
  
He echoed her sigh. "Thanks, Mac. Let's hope there's something in it."  
  
Her heart ached, hearing the sadness in his voice.  
  
  
  
Wed, Feb. 17th 1357 ZULU JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
Admiral Chegwidden nervously wiped his forehead with the back of his hand, then squared his shoulders and tightly smiled at his attorneys. "Let's get it over with, guys."  
  
Harm and Mac exchanged a quick, uneasy glance that didn't go unnoticed by AJ. "Pull yourself together!" he rumbled in a low voice and added with the same strained smile: "I know there isn't much to be said in my favor right now. I don't expect the impossible." He shrugged, trying to sound more confident than he felt. "In a few weeks, when it gets to the actual trial, you'll hopefully have dug up something substantial, right?" It was meant to be a joke, but it failed to make the officers smile. A low, sad "Aye, sir." was his only answer. He frowned, but thought it better not to say anything.  
  
AJ wasn't aware that not even one of the four-hundred-plus pages that Harm and Mac had taken home from Sydney's desk had given them so much as the hint to a hint about who might be involved in the affair. Mac, true to her word, had been finished examining them when Harm had returned from the office the day before. But he'd only had to look into her huge, incredibly sad eyes to get the answer to his unspoken question if she would be able to give them hope. Silently she had stepped up to him and embraced him tightly.  
  
None of them had had the heart yet to tell their CO of their newest failure. They could still do it after the hearing when they would talk about a strategy for the court-martial. By now, none of them doubted that there would be one.  
  
"Okay, let's go," Harm finally agreed as the bailiff opened the huge oak doors and they stepped into the courtroom.  
  
The whole JAG office had to be deserted as all of their coworkers were quietly sitting in the audience. Lt. Singer was the only one among them that somehow managed to look relaxed. But even she wore a sober expression on her face. Harriet was chewing her lower lip and tightly holding on to Bud's arm. Fred was subconsciously folding and unfolding his handkerchief over and over again in his lap until Sturgis laid a gentle but firm hand on his arm. Mattoni was staring at the prosecution desk, barely able to contain his anger about seeing Krennick sit there, quietly arranging her files.  
  
Next to the captain was sitting a young man that had earlier been presented to them as Lieutenant Melvin Hobbes, of the Great Lakes JAG office. A quick call to Carolyn Imes had informed Harm - and the rest of the staff that had been listening to the loudspeaker - that Hobbes, like Harm, was an ex-pilot turned lawyer. Only that his change of designator had been of his own free will. He had, at some point, come to the conclusion, that being a lawyer might turn out to be an easier life. Nevertheless, he was still in full possession of his flyboy ego and, being a good-looking, blond giant, displayed an amount of self-confidence that Mac found disturbing and Harm considered plain disgusting. He himself had never been like that, had he?  
  
Upon announcement, all rose as Judge Amy Helfman and her staff entered the courtroom, looking grave and somehow uncomfortable. Mac noticed that, unlike her usual easy attitude, the judge stuck strictly to protocol and only looked up when it was necessary. As the preliminaries were dealt with, she turned her attention to Krennick and requested the captain to bring forth her charges.  
  
Exchanging a quick, confident smile with Hobbes, Krennick rose, let her gaze quickly meet Harm's, and walked in front. "This case is plainly obvious. When it goes to trial, prosecution will prove that Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, JAG of the Navy, on Sunday, February 14th, went to see his former girlfriend, Doctor Sydney Walden, assaulted her in her house and killed her. We have the testimony of her son, P.O. Daniel Walden, who confirms that the admiral had previously interfered in their lives and that Doctor Walden feared seeing him. And P.O. Walden furthermore claims to have dissuaded his mother from contacting him in a certain matter yet unknown to all parties, as he fully shared her concerns regarding the admiral. We have evidence at hand that Admiral Chegwidden had indeed been in the victim's house at the time of her death. Her son testifies to having witnessed seeing his mother die in the admiral's presence. We have the admiral's fingerprints on the murder weapon, no other fingerprints were found. We have a police statement that says that Doctor Walden must have known her assaulter and admitted him to her house. We can prove that the admiral and Doctor Walden did not end their relationship on friendly terms and that he has been observing P.O. Walden's career in the Navy carefully ever since. Therefore, prosecution maintains that it is necessary to press murder charges against Admiral Chegwidden and to convene a court-martial against him."  
  
Casting one last satisfied look in the direction of the defense, Krennick nodded at Judge Helfman and returned to her seat. The judge turned her attention to Harm who now rose and stepped in front.  
  
"Your honor, if this case should go to trial, our defendant will proclaim himself not guilty. It is true that he went to see Doctor Walden at the time of her tragic death but he did it because she had asked him to come and meet her. Admiral Chegwidden and Sydney Walden had been completely disconnected for several years by the time the murder occurred. Therefore their private lives cannot be considered a motive for this crime. AJ Chegwidden did not murder the doctor." Knowing he had to stick to the hard facts, Harm swallowed the fiery defense discourse that his mind urged him to make, and turned to sit down. But he was interrupted by the judge's voice.  
  
Knowing well that for an Article-32 hearing her interference might be a little unorthodox, Captain Amy Helfman couldn't refrain from speaking up. Incredulous, she had listened to the commander's weak attempts to establish a defense. This was by no means the Harmon Rabb she knew. She had been glad to hear that Rabb and Mackenzie had taken the JAG's defense, knowing that if there were anyone who could get him out of this mess, it would be the HQ wonder team. But what on earth had happened to their faculties? Judge Helfman knew that the commander and the colonel had to be aware that their strategy - if there was one - wasn't worth the paper it was written on. But what had really shaken her was the expression of defeat and resignation that she had detected in the eyes of the tall officer and his partner who were known to her as two of the toughest fighters on earth. If even those two had already given up the fight...  
  
"Commander?"  
  
Harm stopped short and turned, noticing at once the barely hidden concern in the judge's voice. "Your honor?"  
  
"Do you have witnesses who confirm that Doctor Walden called the admiral?" Judge Helfman felt strange in the role of the investigator but she couldn't just let the commander walk away.  
  
"The whole JAG office witnessed him receive a call, ma'am." Harm had immediately understood what the judge was trying to do. He bit his lip to refrain from yelling at her that whatever she would come up with would lead to nothing but frustration. So he just waited and concentrated on his breathing, willing himself to keep his rage in check.  
  
The judge sighed. "Did anyone overhear the admiral actually talking to Doctor Walden?"  
  
"No, ma'am."  
  
"Did the admiral mention to anyone that he was about to go to Doctor Walden?"  
  
"No, ma'am."  
  
"Does the admiral's cell-phone show that Doctor Walden called?"  
  
"The call was made from a public payphone, ma'am."  
  
"Is there anything the defense might want to add?"  
  
"No, your honor."  
  
Judge Helfman closed her eyes for a brief moment after Harm's monotone answers, sighing. Then she resolutely grabbed the gavel and looked at the congregation.  
  
"Take your place, Commander. A court-martial will be convened regarding the murder charges against Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. The date will be set in a few weeks' time. Taking into consideration the gravity of the crime in question, the accused will remain in custody. Court is in recess." The gavel fell so vigorously that it broke upon impact. Judge Helfman frowned, rose and left the courtroom.  
  
"See you soon, Commander, Colonel," was all that AJ said gruffly as the guards were about to accompany him out of the courtroom.  
  
"Aye, sir." Mac's hand sought Harm's as she tried to steady her voice. Then she left the room together with her colleagues, knowing that Harm wanted a minute to himself.  
  
Harm let himself fall onto his chair, letting out his breath and burying his face in his hands, supporting his head by resting his elbows on the table before him. Like this, he just sat there for three whole minutes, trying to come to terms with this nightmare. The quiet solitude of the deserted courtroom slowly helped him to calm down. Suddenly, the sound of a voice made him jump.  
  
"I told you it wasn't going to work, Commander." Allison Krennick shut the door behind herself and walked up to Harm's table. Sighing, he pulled himself up and came to attention.  
  
"Ma'am..."  
  
"At ease." She frowned. "Oh, come on, Harm, there's no one here. Drop the formalities."  
  
"Aye, ma'am." He folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting.  
  
"You are pretty desperate, right?" Her words were open and sincere. Harm thought he would have felt more at ease had she been gloating over his defeat.  
  
"Yes." Unemotional honesty might work, he decided.  
  
Krennick stepped closer, lowering her voice. "We might be able to work out a deal, though, if your client cooperates."  
  
Stiffening, Harm warily eyed the blond captain. She was good-looking, he had to admit. And it was clear that she knew it. He tried not to let his anger rise. He was married, damn it! Didn't that mean anything to her?  
  
"I don't see any room for negotiations, ma'am."  
  
Krennick lightly put her hand on Harm's arm, looking up to him. "Oh, I do. I could explain my ideas to you in private. I'm sure your wife, in her state, needs to rest a lot and would even be glad to have her husband leave her in peace for a little while."  
  
Harm felt his hand clench the lapel of his uniform jacket as he tried to stay calm. "My wife happens to sit second chair," was the only thing he said.  
  
Krennick frowned slightly and decided to try the direct approach. Rabb was a pilot. He had always been flattered by female attention. A fighter pilot never let an easy prey slip away. Not even a wedding band could change that. "You could always inform her about any deals once they are made. Negotiating is your prerogative as primary defense counsel. And..." Krennick let her voice drop an octave, stepping still closer to him, "You might thank me for providing you with an opportunity to get a break from female pregnancy roller-coaster and to have some of the fun you must have been missing for some time now." She invitingly raised one eyebrow.  
  
Fuming, Harm grabbed his folders, tugged them tightly under his arm and raised himself to full height. He hated having to answer anything to her bold request, especially as their private lives were of no one else's concern, let alone Krennick's. But he had to be plain, once and for all. His stare might have stabbed the female officer when he calmly replied.  
  
"I have been married for more than half a year now, ma'am. Very happily married. My wife is the most extraordinary woman I have ever met in my whole life and she means everything to me. I am missing nothing whatsoever and, with all due respect, Captain: should you feel inclined to engage into any social contact with a pilot turned lawyer, you might want to consider turning to Lt. Hobbes. May I be dismissed?"  
  
Krennick's stare had turned as angry as his own. "Dismissed, Commander." Her words were sharp and cold. Harm turned and walked out of the courtroom, knowing well that the situation hadn't become any easier for their CO just now.  
  
The blond captain watched as the object of her hidden desires left the room. 'Damn you, Mackenzie,' she silently swore.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	4. Chapter Four

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Four Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part three:  
  
Fuming, Harm grabbed his folders, tugged them tightly under his arm and raised himself to full height. He hated having to answer anything to her bold request, especially as their private lives were of no one else's concern, let alone Krennick's. But he had to be plain, once and for all. His stare might have stabbed the female officer when he calmly replied.  
  
"I have been married for more than half a year now, ma'am. Very happily married. My wife is the most extraordinary woman I have ever met in my whole life and she means everything to me. I am missing nothing whatsoever and, with all due respect, Captain: should you feel inclined to engage into any social contact with a pilot turned lawyer, you might want to consider turning to Lt. Hobbes. May I be dismissed?"  
  
Krennick's stare had turned as angry as his own. "Dismissed, Commander." Her words were sharp and cold. Harm turned and walked out of the courtroom, knowing well that the situation hadn't become any easier for their CO just now.  
  
The blond captain watched as the object of her hidden desires left the room. 'Damn you, Mackenzie,' she silently swore.  
  
  
  
Part Four:  
  
Thu, Feb. 18th 0623 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA  
  
  
  
For hours, Harm had been brooding over his files, searching the Internet, perusing books, rummaging through folders and all the file cabinets that could be found in their house. Somehow he knew he was being foolish, acting out of his desperation and frustration, but what the hell was he supposed to do? He couldn't let down his CO. There had to be a way out of this mess. There had to be!  
  
Mac had gone to bed two hours ago, exhausted after having gone on with her own research for ages. Of course, Harm knew she had to take care of her health, and she had every right to take her necessary break, clear her head and get a refreshing good night's sleep. But tonight, his emotions were clouding his judgment to some extent, leaving him with a feeling of being left alone and let down by his wife.  
  
She had been trying to talk him into abandoning his futile and aimless search and save his strength, to continue in the morning and calm down a bit. But, as his stubborn going-on had met with her equally stubborn attempts at getting him to shut down his computer, emotions between them had heated up quickly and they had ended up arguing. Mac had - not really without a reason, as Harm grudgingly admitted to himself - told him that he was, once again, being driven by emotion, trying to come up with some solution out of the blue without having any substantial plans. Like he had been in Russia. Only then she had helped him pull it through. Today, she had just sworn under her breath, slammed the bedroom door shut and gone to sleep.  
  
Although Harm still hadn't come to the point where he could openly admit to her that she was right in calling him foolish, deep inside his soul he was hurting badly. He wished he could overcome his pride more easily, go upstairs, apologize and ease the pain that he knew she was feeling just like he did whenever they fought. But right now he couldn't.  
  
He finally came to the conclusion that his attempts to develop a new defense strategy were indeed futile. Sighing, he disconnected from the Internet, switched off his computer, put all books and folders back into place and quietly went upstairs. As he slipped under the blanket he, for a moment, felt the need to wake Mac, take her into his arms and tell her he was sorry. But then he decided against it, content that she was sound asleep and not wanting to disturb her. She needed her rest more than he did. He could still apologize in the morning.  
  
When his alarm-clock told him it was time to get up, he immediately noticed that Mac's side of the bed was empty. Frowning, Harm got up and descended to the kitchen, only to find it deserted, the dishes she had used for her early breakfast still standing in the sink. Then he noticed a note she had pinned to the refrigerator.  
  
Harm,  
  
I hope you remembered that I'm off to N.Y. with Claire for my appointment for Trisha's heart examination. Hopefully, I'll be back in the evening. You won't be able to call me as I'll be inside the hospital all day, but we'll be fine. I'll call you as soon as we're on our way back.  
  
I'm sorry about last night. Love you,  
  
Mac  
  
Damn. He had forgotten about that. Two weeks ago while doing a routine screening, Claire had detected slight irregularities in their daughter's heart rate. She thought it was nothing to be overly concerned about, but she had still advised Mac to get it checked out by a specialist in pre- natal medicine. They'd surely be back late tonight, if not tomorrow. Harm's conscience was stirring. He really should have apologized yesterday night. He didn't want her to think that he was still mad at her, especially when she had been right about his behavior. But at the moment there was nothing he could do about it. By now, they would be boarding their flight at Dulles and they would have switched off their cell-phones. Maybe he'd have a chance to talk to her if she called on the way from the airport to the hospital.  
  
He showered, dressed, had a quick cup of coffee and headed for JAG, only to bury himself once again in his research. After the screwed Article-32 yesterday morning, no staff member dared to disturb him. In the solitude of AJ's mahogany-furnished office, Harm desperately searched again and again for the needle in the haystack, the one fact that no one had mentioned yet and that might blow Krennick's solid charges against the admiral. But it all seemed pointless.  
  
At one point, Tiner's voice addressed him over the intercom.  
  
"Sir, Admiral Chegwidden's on line one for you."  
  
"Put him through, please, Tiner."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
Harm wiped his face with his hand. He had been dreading this conversation. He drew a deep breath and decided to get it over with. "Sir?"  
  
"Hello Commander. How are things going?" AJ's voice sounded tired.  
  
"Smoothly, sir. Only two new cases today, a Drunk and Disorderly and a minor AWOL. Both at Norfolk. How are you, sir?"  
  
AJ's laugh held a slightly sarcastic note. "That was one hell of a defense you laid out there yesterday, son."  
  
Harm swallowed. "I am sorry, sir, but that was all we had. We are working on it, sir, I swear."  
  
"I know." AJ sighed. He knew the commander too well not to worry. "Don't let this affect you too much, Harm," he quietly counseled. "Stick to your duties, alright?"  
  
Harm smiled despite himself. "Duty always comes first, sir," he lied.  
  
AJ cleared his throat to hide his grin. He knew Harm was being insincere. "Glad to hear it. But Harm," his voice suddenly turned sober, "I mean it. Don't get carried away with your concern. For Mac's sake."  
  
"Too late for that, sir," Harm ruefully replied.  
  
"I feared it would be. I take it she is mad at you for being stubborn?"  
  
Harm shook his head with a sad smile. The admiral knew his 'family' too well. "You've hit the nail on the head, sir. Only that she thinks that I'm mad at her, too. I didn't apologize yesterday and today she's off to New York for a medical examination and it hurts having things unresolved."  
  
"Then learn from it, son. I'll go back to my Shakespeare now and I expect to hear from you only when you have news to tell, right?" AJ gave his voice an extra gruff edge. He didn't want the commander to hear that he was moved that the younger officer had just confided in him and talked about his personal life.  
  
"Aye, sir. Permission to speak freely?"  
  
"Go ahead, Rabb."  
  
"We all miss you over here, sir."  
  
"Well, then it's up to you and the colonel to see to it that I get my six out of here quickly to grace you with my presence."  
  
"Will do, sir," Harm chuckled and put down the receiver when he had heard the 'click' on the other end of the line. For a moment he just stared blankly at the telephone. Then he shook himself from his lethargy. Mac hadn't called and by now she would be inside the hospital walls. 'God, let everything be okay,' he silently prayed. Resolving that the best way to clear his head was a change of occupation, he sat up straight in his chair and pulled out the Cramer case file. He would have to work on it anyway and the Chegwidden case at the moment just led to dead ends. 'Better get your thoughts onto that one, Hammer,' he advised himself as he began to skim the file to remember the particulars.  
  
  
  
Thu, Feb. 18th 2102 ZULU NFESC Washington Navy Yard Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Here we are, sir. Controlling." The young ensign looked expectantly at him as Harm stepped into the room.  
  
"Thank you, Ensign, you may go now."  
  
"Aye, sir." The young man saluted, turned and left Harm to himself. The commander slowly had a look around. Lt. Cmdr. Cramer and her team had been assigned a rather small testing facility, situated at the far end of the Naval Facilities Engineering Service Center. The tests were executed in a small hangar. At the side, offices and rooms for technical support were located on two levels. Huge windowpanes opened the view right into the testing hangar to allow the personnel to follow the procedures. The main control room was located on the first floor. Right under it was the room that the engineers used to observe the testing procedures from, while Controlling was usually occupied by technicians and computer specialists.  
  
According to her own statement, Maryann Cramer had left the observation room on the ground floor and gone up to Controlling when the testing had already begun. As the technicians explained, she had come in in a hurry, taken a stack of papers from a table at the back and, equally hurriedly, left the room again to return to her colleagues. What didn't quite add up was the fact that she hadn't joined her team until approximately four minutes later, if Harm could trust the engineers' statements. He didn't have Mac's timing but a blind man could see that an officer in an obvious hurry wouldn't need more than twenty seconds to descend from Controlling to Obs. What hadn't Cramer told him? Harm frowned as he started to walk around the place and hoped for an inspiration.  
  
He threw a quick "At ease, continue." at the two engineers present in Obs and let his gaze wander, not sure what he was looking for. As he studied the items present on the nearby bookshelf, he couldn't help overhearing the engineers' conversation.  
  
"Yeah, I guess the shareholders were pretty upset when they heard that," one just said, pointing out something to the other in the newspaper he was reading.  
  
"Holy... yeah, I guess they were," the other engineer agreed, shock evident in his voice.  
  
"Hope you sold your Branwick shares in time, Pete?" the engineer with the newspaper asked mockingly.  
  
"Sure, I had to buy my wife that villa at the Riviera, remember?" Pete replied in the same mocking tone. Sobering, he went on. "But this time I'm sure Branwick's gonna kick the bucket, Joe. They invested billions in the project and again North Star beat them. The contract is safe and sound. Not even the incident can change that."  
  
Harm looked up from the brochure he had been perusing. Were they referring to the same incident he was investigating? Trying to look totally absorbed in his reading, he started to listen intently to the engineers' conversation, observing them from the corner of his eye.  
  
"I'm afraid you're right," Joe agreed. "I was puzzled from the start how a small company like Branwick could even think of competing with them. They must know that the Navy's got contracts with North Star that date way back. We've bought hundreds of engines from them. The technical personnel are familiar with their specifications. What made Branwick think they could outrun them this time?"  
  
Pete shrugged. "I have no idea. I heard they were having problems in general, though. So maybe this was supposed to be the final huge effort to try and reach safe grounds? I mean, had they gotten the Navy order, their problems would have dissolved in no time... whoosh, bank account in order. They were pretty desperate, I think."  
  
Joe gave him a lopsided grin. "So they must be gloating over our little mishap here."  
  
"Poetic justice..." Pete mused.  
  
Harm was intrigued. Maybe he had just stumbled over a hint of what really lay behind the scenes. What if this small firm, Branwick, had actually wanted the North Star engine to fail the test? 'Don't jump to conclusions, Hammer,' he admonished himself. 'It doesn't have to be sabotage, it could just be an ordinary malfunction that led to the explosion.' But he had tasted blood. He decided it was at least worth to check out this theory.  
  
He turned, cleared his throat and casually asked the engineers if he might just for a moment use one of the terminals.  
  
"Sure, sir, go ahead," Pete answered with a smile. Harm chose the computer farthest off whose monitor faced a corner and couldn't be overseen from the room. He quickly logged on the internet and surfed his way up to the homepage of Branwick Industries: the company was part of a small consortium of rather different enterprises, Branwick Industries, specialized in aeronautical engineering, Baxter and Connelly, hazardous freight forwarding, and Minton Greenwood waste disposal. Harm skimmed through the company's history: it had been founded in 1930 by Carl Branwick, and the company proudly retained that the firm had always remained property of his family.  
  
Switching to the Financial Times archive, Harm learned that Branwick had successfully fought several attempts of corporate take over by other firms. The company had had proficient clients, mostly firms that built small civilian aircraft like his stepfather's jet. But like too many companies whose economic well-being was linked to commercial air travel, after 9/11 the numbers of orders had diminished dramatically. Branwick shares had begun a steady decline, and right now the company seemed to face bankruptcy. An article that dated a year ago, told Harm that Branwick's chairman, Nicholas Bernstein, had decided to start acquiring new clients and that he was hoping to establish contracts with the military. No wonder, Harm silently admitted. The military would right now be one of the very few faithful buyers of aircraft parts. So the company had invested whatever capital they could bring forth into the development of fighter turbines. But in the end, the major order that they had been speculating on had once again gone to the global player North Star.  
  
A suspicion started to rise at the back of Harm's mind. He couldn't bring himself to believe Lt. Cmdr. Cramer guilty, but he felt he couldn't completely trust her, either, due to the four-minute hole in her tale. Once more trusting his instincts more than his intellect, Harm logged out, got up and headed for the locker room.  
  
Knowing that he still had half an hour before the shifts would change, he quietly entered the changing room and quickly picked the lock to Cramer's locker. Rummaging through it, taking care, though, not to change the order of Cramer's belongings, he searched for anything that might establish a connection between the engineer and either North Star or Branwick. And at last his patience and intuition were rewarded: in a stack of paper, somewhere in between thermal calculations and printouts of testing routines, he found a ripped-off letterhead of Branwick Industries.  
  
"Now we're finally getting somewhere, Commander," he grimly muttered to himself as he stuffed the sheet into his pocket, quickly closed the locker and headed for NFESC security.  
  
Fri, Feb 19th 0227 ZULU NFESC Washington Navy Yard Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
By now, Harm had a rather clear image of what must have happened when the explosion had occurred. But to his surprise and dismay, it was different from what he had expected. Upon request, he had been given tapes of all security cam recordings of the four minutes in question and of the hours that lay between the last inspection of the engine and the test. He had hoped for some sign of Maryann Cramer within the hangar - or of anyone, for that matter - who could have sabotaged the machine. But until Cramer's staff had gathered for the actual testing, no one had ever entered the hangar at all.  
  
But on the other hand, while turning his attention to the fatal four minutes of Cramer's absence from Obs, he had been able to clearly identify her as she quickly entered the network supply room that lay next to Controlling and that had been deserted at the time of the incident. The engineer went in, quickly deposited a few pages from her file behind the heater and quickly and quietly left the room again, just as the explosion could be heard. Out of curiosity, Harm had continued to watch the same tape, and two minutes later, a technician had been seen enter the room, stride over to the heater, take the pages and leave. Whistling through his teeth, Harm had understood what he had at hand: the explosion seemed to be accidental, maybe, but Cramer might be involved in a case of industrial espionage. But where was her motive? Why would she risk her career for some firm that had lost a contract?  
  
As security had left him alone in the spare video observation office, Harm was able to make a copy of the tape in question and then return all originals to the archive, claiming not to have found anything of relevance. He felt that he first needed additional confirmation of his theory before making it public. He decided he had to go back online and check the Branwick site for possible hints.  
  
Mac still hadn't called. Harm presumed that she must still be at the hospital and he tried to ignore the gnawing feeling that something had to be wrong if the tests took that long. He was sure, though, that Claire and her patient would not come back tonight. So he decided to stay at the NFESC and do a little additional research. Not wanting to draw attention, Harm went in search for another computer, outside Controlling.  
  
When Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer emerged from the dressing room to begin her shift, she became aware of the lights coming out of the network administrator's office. 'That's strange,' she thought, nearing the door, 'Guy is never at the office after 1700.' Peeping inside the room, she immediately recognized the tall dark-haired figure at the computer that sat with his back in her direction. She was about to go in and greet her defense counsel when she stopped short in her tracks, becoming aware of the particular design of the web page the commander had just opened. Branwick Industries. Holding her breath, Cramer withdrew and hurriedly went to her own desk in the adjoining room, switched on her computer and, with a little programming, established a link to the administrator's terminal.  
  
Meanwhile Harm had found what he had hoped for. He had quietly clicked his way through the biography of Nicholas Bernstein and had come across a picture of his family: him, two teenage sons and his wife, Kristen Cramer- Bernstein, general manager of Minton Greenwood. Cramer. Should this 'coincidence' be related to the family tradition Branwick was so proud of? Harm printed out his findings and immediately searched on until he came by the biography of Carl Branwick's daughter Cheryl that had inherited the company after his death. At 32, she had married a certain Murray Cramer with whom she had two daughters, Kristen and... Maryann. Bingo. There was the motive. A proud family never let their ancestors' work die. A grin began to spread over Harm's face as he prepared to leave and go home.  
  
As Maryann Cramer witnessed the accuracy and obvious right direction of her attorney's research on her own screen, her heart rate slowly but steadily increased. Casually telling Pete and Joe that she had - once again - left a vital file at home, she excused herself from her shift mates and left for her car, always taking care never to let a tall, dark-haired officer out of her sight.  
  
Harm parked his SUV in front of their house. He decided to leave the evidence in the car as he would need it at the office anyway and was afraid to leave anything at home, endangering it to mingle with Mac's organized home chaos. He locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard a voice call his name. He turned - and found himself face to face with Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer, pointing a gun at him. Before he could think of a single thing to say, he heard the gun go off twice and immediately felt a searing pain in his gut and on his forehead. As he doubled over, gasping in agony, he felt gloved hands pull him down on the concrete and search his pockets. 'Mac! Help!' he thought. Then everything went dark.  
  
The stars were shining above the heavily bleeding figure, lying in the fresh snow, as, in the victim's security pocket, a cell-phone started to beep, its unanswered ringing leaving a Marine colonel up in New York wondering if her husband was still mad at her.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	5. Chapter Five

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Five Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part four:  
  
Harm parked his SUV in front of their house. He decided to leave the evidence in the car as he would need it at the office anyway and was afraid to leave anything at home, endangering it to mingle with Mac's organized home chaos. He locked the car and stepped onto the sidewalk as he heard a voice call his name. He turned - and found himself face to face with Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer, pointing a gun at him. Before he could think of a single thing to say, he heard the gun go off twice and immediately felt a searing pain in his gut and on his forehead. As he doubled over, gasping in agony, he felt gloved hands pull him down on the concrete and search his pockets. 'Mac! Help!' he thought. Then everything went dark.  
  
The stars were shining above the heavily bleeding figure, lying in the fresh snow, as, in the victim's security pocket, a cell-phone started to beep, its unanswered ringing leaving a Marine Colonel up in New York wondering if her husband was still mad at her.  
  
  
  
Part Five:  
  
Fri, Feb. 19th 1426 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
A tall brunette, obviously highly pregnant, was literally running up to the reception desk, supporting her belly with one hand. All color seemed to have drained from her face and her eyes resembled those of a frightened deer caught in a car's headlights. The nurse on duty immediately grabbed the receiver of her telephone, ready to call an obstetrician but something in the woman's face made her stop.  
  
"Can I help you, ma'am? Are you in labor?"  
  
"No. I need to see my husband."  
  
"Is he a patient?"  
  
"No, he just likes it here. Hell, of course he's a patient!"  
  
"Which ward is he in?"  
  
The brunette made an impatient gesture with her hands. "How am I supposed to know that? That's your job to tell me. If I knew I wouldn't be wasting my time with damned formalities!"  
  
The nurse was beginning to feel uncomfortable under the woman's stare. 'Those Navy wives think they own this place...' she thought, frowning. A young woman with light brown hair stepped up to the counter now and put a comforting hand on the brunette's shoulder.  
  
"Calm down, Mac," she said in a low, soothing voice, "Let me handle it, okay?"  
  
The brunette closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then the nurse, to her surprise, saw her actually smile at her friend. "Thanks, Claire."  
  
The younger woman turned to the nurse. "I'm Doctor Claire Farnham. Colonel Rabb," with her head she motioned to the pregnant woman beside her, "Received a call that her husband was admitted here yesterday night with a gunshot wound. He's Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. Could you please tell us where he is?"  
  
'Colonel? Okay, I see. Never mess with angry Marines.' The nurse suddenly saw Mac in a totally different light. The commander's arrival had caused quite a lot of trouble for the night shift because he had been in such poor condition and for hours they hadn't been sure if he would live. Probably this angry-Marine attitude was the only way his pregnant wife could cope with the dreadful news she must have just recently received. In a compassionate but still matter-of-fact tone, the nurse informed the two women of the commander's condition.  
  
"I see. He was admitted shortly after 0030, unconscious. He was shot twice. One bullet hit the stomach and one grazed his head. He lost a large amount of blood and immediately underwent surgery. He's in the ICU now. That way and up to the right."  
  
"Thank you." The young doctor gave the nurse a warm smile, hooked her arm through the colonel's and led her down the corridor.  
  
In front of Harm's door Mac and Claire were met by the surgeon who had operated Harm upon his arrival. He offered both women a warm handshake.  
  
"Colonel Rabb, ma'am? I'm Lt. Cmdr. Ralph Zanelli. I understand Cmdr. Rabb is your husband?"  
  
"That is correct, Commander. How is he?" Mac's hands held a tight grip on her purse.  
  
Zanelli sighed. "To be honest, ma'am, we're not too sure right now. He did survive the surgery which is a miracle in itself but..." He hesitated.  
  
Mac's eyes urged him to go on. "The truth," was all she could say in a low voice.  
  
The surgeon swallowed, looked down for a moment and then forced himself to meet Mac's eyes. "He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and we have no idea to what extent it may affect his systems. Right now he's in a coma."  
  
Luckily, Claire had been prepared to support Mac's weight should she need to. As she felt Mac sway slightly at the impact of the news she immediately tightened her grip and helped her friend stay on her feet. Mac's voice was hoarse but firm when she spoke.  
  
"Will he wake from it?"  
  
"We can't tell, ma'am."  
  
"If he does, how could he be affected?"  
  
"In every possible way. He could be his normal self. He could lose his memory. He could be partly or completely paralyzed. He could be mentally handicapped. There's no way to predict the consequences of his injuries. I'm very sorry, ma'am," the doctor added in a low, strained voice.  
  
Mac only bit her lip until she tasted blood. Claire turned to Zanelli. "Thanks, Doctor. I know I'm not family, but I'm her obstetrician and a good friend both of hers and of the commander. I think, if the colonel wants me, that is, she might need me with her now. Could I go in, too?"  
  
Zanelli hesitated only for a couple of seconds and then nodded. "Sure, go ahead." Placing a reassuring hand on Mac's back, he opened the door and let the two women in.  
  
"His eyes are open," was the first thing that Mac remarked absentmindedly as she, in a state of haze, approached Harm's bed. Harm was lying in a half- seated position, tubes and cables connecting him to IVs and monitors all around him. A continuous, even beeping broke the silence of the room. A thick bandage had been applied to Harm's head, and from a pale face, his eyes seemed to be staring at the opposite wall.  
  
"I know," Zanelli replied. "We tried to close them but the lids won't stay down. So every half-hour he receives eye drops. But I have some positive news, too. Two hours ago, we were able to disconnect him from the respirator. He's breathing steadily by himself."  
  
Mac absorbed the information without showing any reaction. Her mind was entirely focused on her husband. Seeing his void, lifeless eyes stare into the middle of nowhere, she felt as if an iron clasp had been laid around her heart, like in the fairytale of Iron Henry. It hurt as if it were going to burst any moment. She softly took his hand, feeling it hang heavy and powerless in her own. The man she loved, the father of her child, had been reduced to the mere shell of himself. Holding his hand against her cheek, she fought her tears and suppressed a sob, squeezing her eyes shut against the overwhelming pain that made her want to scream.  
  
It was an entire two minutes until she found her voice. "Who did it?" The words were barely audible.  
  
"The police say that he must have been the victim of a robbery," Zanelli explained. "It appears he was shot and searched. His wallet was missing. The robbers must have been disturbed, though. His car showed signs of an attempt to open it. But they seemingly gave it up very quickly and fled. And they also didn't bother to search for his cell-phone that he carried in his security pocket inside his uniform. The wallet must have been enough for them. That's what the police told me"  
  
Mac forced herself to go on, the investigator in her surfacing. "Any clues? Or any witnesses?"  
  
"You should ask the police, ma'am, but as far as I know - none."  
  
"Who found him?"  
  
"Your neighbor called the ambulance, ma'am."  
  
Mac took a deep breath and shook herself from her paralysis, turning to the doctor and managing a sad half-smile.  
  
"That would be all for now, Commander. Thanks for your assistance."  
  
"Aye, ma'am. Permission to speak freely?"  
  
"Granted."  
  
"I'll pray for you and the commander, ma'am. Never lose hope."  
  
For a fraction of a second, Zanelli was able to see the stunning beauty of the woman in front of him, as a real smile lit up her huge dark eyes.  
  
"Thank you, Commander. I appreciate that."  
  
Coming to attention, the doctor turned and left the room.  
  
Claire stepped up to Mac and put her hand on her friend's shoulder. "You want me to call anyone?"  
  
"Yes, please inform Sturgis that he'll have to take over as temporary JAG and have him inform the office. And tell Fred that I want him to sit second chair in the admiral's trial. If Harriet asks if she can help in any way please ask her to look after Jingo. She has our keys. I'll try to reach Harm's mom, Sergei and the admiral. And Claire... thanks for being here."  
  
The young woman gave her friend a quick compassionate hug. "Anytime, Mac. Anytime." Then she turned and left the room.  
  
Although Mac had claimed that she wanted to talk to AJ as his defense counsel, it nevertheless took quite some time until the call was passed on to him. Finally he picked up the receiver.  
  
"Chegwidden."  
  
"Admiral? This is Col. Rabb."  
  
"Mac?" AJ's voice was immediately full of concern as he heard her speak a little unevenly. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"No, sir. Harm was shot yesterday night."  
  
"Oh God... because of me?" AJ's grip on the receiver tightened until his knuckles turned white.  
  
"I don't think so, sir," came Mac's calm reply. For the moment, she had managed to steady her voice. "It seems to have been a simple robbery."  
  
"How is he?"  
  
Her silence spoke volumes. AJ began to fear the worst. Finally she answered, her voice monotone. "He's alive but he suffered a cerebral hemorrhage. He's in a coma."  
  
AJ dreaded the next question. "Is he likely to wake up?"  
  
"No one can tell." Mac didn't trust her voice enough for any more words, struggling to hold back her tears that all of a sudden welled up again, now that she had to clearly face the facts, having to communicate them to others. AJ heard her suppress a sob, then another and another until her resolve broke. For several minutes he just let her cry, pained, scared and at a loss of what to say. He could count on one hand the times that he had ever seen Sarah Mackenzie cry. And never, never had he been witness to such bottomless pain in her. All he could do was not hang up and be there if she needed to talk.  
  
Eventually, her violent sobs quieted. He heard her sniffle and blow her nose. "I apologize for my behavior, sir."  
  
"Nonsense." Once again AJ applied his useful gruffness to hide his own inner turmoil. "It was necessary for you to cry, Colonel. Don't you apologize for that, understood?"  
  
"Aye, sir." She again blew her nose. "I didn't cry, though, when I called Harm's mother. Or Sergei."  
  
AJ's voice softened. "That was because you knew you had to be strong for them, Mac. You don't have to be for me. I'm a SEAL, remember? As long as I know you'll fight, I'll cope."  
  
Mac let out a shaky sigh. It felt good to be allowed to be weak for once. "I don't know if I have the power to fight, sir," she admitted quietly. "What if it all comes to nothing? What if he doesn't remember me? What if he'll never be able to hold his child? What if his future would be being confined to a bed? I don't know if I would want him to live through that. And if I could live through it for that matter," she added, her voice even lower.  
  
A sudden wave of rage flowed through the admiral's veins as he listened to her. If even Mac, his no-nonsense chief-of-staff, the tough gung-ho Marine with the iron will, was giving up on this, the commander had no chance whatsoever to come back to himself! Shaking with anger, the admiral addressed the woman that was closer to him than his own daughter.  
  
"Don't you dare, Colonel!" he yelled into the receiver.  
  
Mac gave a start. "Sir?"  
  
"Don't you dare give up on your husband! He needs you, you of all people, Mackenzie! Should he have a chance to wake, it will be your voice, your attention and your determination alone that will bring him back, do you hear me? You mean more to him than life itself! It will be you that he comes back to if he does, and no one else! Now get your head out of your six and fight, Marine! That's an order!" Mac could hear her CO breathe agitatedly.  
  
Some of AJ's force somehow made its way across the phone line. Mac swallowed, and all of a sudden, felt ashamed. Damn, if she wanted to be worthy of the green uniform she was wearing, running and accepting defeat was out of the question. Never leave anyone behind. She lifted her head. "Sir, yes, sir! " she answered forcefully.  
  
"Semper fidelis, Marine," was all that her CO replied before hanging up.  
  
  
  
Fri, Feb. 19th 2143 ZULU House Mistral Dwayne Myers Naval College Long Island, NY  
  
  
  
Cadet Third Year Jeannine Stiller hurriedly opened the door to her apartment and rushed into her room as she heard her telephone ring. Throwing her bag on her desk, she flopped onto her bed, and, a little short of breath, responded.  
  
"Stiller."  
  
"Preev'yet, Yanina Andreyevna." [Hello, Yanina Andreyevna.]  
  
"Sergei!" Jeannine's face lit up upon hearing his voice. Sergei had once asked her what her middle name was, and as she had had to admit that she didn't even have one, he had asked what her late father had been called and had given her a Russian middle name - 'daughter of Andrew'. It was one of Sergei's qualities, to always think of sweet little things like this. And it made her heart jump.  
  
His smile could be heard over the line. "Hi, my little one. How are you holding up?"  
  
"Fine, thank you. And you? What did I do to deserve your unexpected call?" Jeannine lay down on her back, smiling at the ceiling, twirling the telephone cable around her left index finger.  
  
Sergei's voice sobered. "I needed someone to talk to."  
  
Jeannine's fingers stopped in mid-movement. "What's up? Are you okay?"  
  
"Yeah, I am, but my brother isn't."  
  
Sitting up cross-legged on her bed, Jeannine felt her worries grow. "What happened?"  
  
"Harm was shot yesterday night."  
  
"Oh my God... how is he? Did he..."  
  
"He's alive," Sergei replied to her unfinished question. "But barely. He suffered a cerebral hemorrhage and went into a coma. No one knows if he'll ever wake, and if he does, no one can be sure about his condition."  
  
Jeannine could hear the pain in Sergei's voice. "I just wish I were with you right now," she said, wanting to hold and comfort him. She knew how much Harm meant to him, besides her own concern for her friend's well- being.  
  
"So do I," he sighed. "Jan, I don't know what I would do without him. He's been my one anchor ever since I came to the States."  
  
"Remember that you're not alone anymore. All your brother's friends are your friends, too. And then there's Mac. How does she cope anyways?"  
  
"When she called me she seemed composed. But I know that's just a shell. I guess deep inside she's just plain desperate but she tries to be strong for the rest of us. And for little Trisha."  
  
Thinking of her former room- and classmate who had helped her through her times of hell and had become one of her closest friends, Jeannine made a decision. "Sergei, do you still live in Arlington with them or are you done rearranging Mac's old apartment?"  
  
Sergei had started to attend classes in aeronautical engineering in September at Georgetown University. So, living in Georgetown had appeared a comfortable solution and he, Harm and Mac had succeeded in talking Mac's former landlord into letting Sergei take over the apartment by the time she would have moved to the new house. In December, Sergei had begun to reconstruct the place and a week ago he had finally been able to move in.  
  
"Didn't I tell you?" Sergei was embarrassed. "I moved in last Saturday. Everything is ready and I love it. Wait till you see it yourself. Why do you ask?"  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."  
  
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was very aware of the possible consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."  
  
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.  
  
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.  
  
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the between the two phones connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."  
  
"You, too."  
  
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Goodbye, Yanina Andreyevna.]  
  
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."  
  
  
  
AN: [I made up the phonetic spelling of the Russian words myself. I hope I got it halfway right to be comprehensible in English. For a German reader, for example, I would probably have written 'Daswidanja'. So just be a little creative while reading, okay? Thanks!]  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	6. Chapter Six

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Six Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part five:  
  
Taking a deep breath, Jeannine prepared to reply, unsure if she was ready for this, having been involved with Harm's brother for less than two months, having seen him only once after having been to Washington for Christmas. But she wanted to see Mac and be there for her, even if it was only for a few days, without having to impose on her hospitality, though. Mac had more than enough problems herself. And Jeannine somehow felt she could trust the younger Rabb just as she could the elder. "I could come over for Spring Break," she offered slowly, her heart beating a little quicker than usual, "If you let me stay with you."  
  
Sergei's answer held a slightly hoarse edge, telling Jeannine that he, just like her, was precisely aware of the consequences that her staying with him might have for the two of them. Nevertheless, he agreed. "I think Mac would like having you around, Janutchka."  
  
"What about you?" Jeannine couldn't help asking under her breath.  
  
"Me, too," she heard him say just as low.  
  
For a few seconds the silence hung heavily between the two ends of the phone line connecting Georgetown and Long Island. Then Sergei ventured a shy "Take care, little one."  
  
"You, too."  
  
"Dusvidunya, Yanina Andreyevna." [Good bye, Yanina Andreyevna.]  
  
Wanting to surprise him, she answered with a phrase that she had trained to pronounce correctly with Mac's help. She smiled. "Dusvidunya, Sergei Harmonovitch."  
  
  
  
Part Six:  
  
Sat, Feb. 20th 0312 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
It was the continuous, suppressed sobbing that first penetrated the thick fog that was clouding Harm's conscious. He felt a sudden wave of pain as he realized that it was none other than his Sarah crying desperately over something. Mac, crying desperately? What the heck had happened?  
  
Trying to get his vision into focus, he became aware of the white wall he was staring at. And his ears suddenly recognized the steady beeping of a heart monitor. This had to be an intensive care unit. A dull, throbbing pain, obviously lessened by painkillers, made itself known somewhere in his gut. And suddenly he remembered. Maryann Cramer had shot him.  
  
He noticed that his left hand was clasped between Mac's smaller ones. She was obviously stroking his palm with her thumb. ['Hey, Marine, I thought you knew that no one gets rid of Harmon Rabb easily.'] Thankful that she was with him and eager to relieve her from her apparent insecurity about his well-being, he tried to squeeze her hand in return. But strangely, his fingers didn't obey his brain.  
  
He tried to turn his head in her direction but his muscles seemed to be on strike. Unable to fight the growing sense of doom inside himself, he tried to look at her but his eyes wouldn't comply. It felt as if they were glued to the spot, always bound to stare at the white wall. He tried to close them to concentrate on his other senses, but his eyelids wouldn't budge.  
  
Damn, this couldn't be possible! There had had to be at least one tiny part of his body that he could still command! Finding his lips refusing their service, too, he tried to at least emit some sort of groan, to somehow make her see that he was with her, but his vocal chords were in deep hibernation. ['Okay, accelerate your breathing, then,'] he ordered himself. But his lungs seemed to function on autopilot, steadily inhaling and exhaling without caring if he wanted to or not. Desperate anger and raging pain hit him mercilessly as he finally understood his exact condition: he was in a perfect cocoon, aware of all that was going on around him, but completely incapable of communicating with the outside world. Cramer had done a thorough job, taking him out for good.  
  
His inner turmoil didn't go unnoticed by his heart monitor, though. The steady beeping accelerated, making Mac suck in her breath and look up. She immediately saw that the green peaks on the oscillator that represented his heartbeat stood closer to one another. Starting to tremble, she pressed the 'call' button. A minute later, Zanelli entered the room.  
  
"What is it, ma'am?" As he walked past his feet, Harm could get a glimpse of the Lieutenant Commander's concerned expression.  
  
['I'm at Bethesda,'] he noted, keen on learning every detail about his present state.  
  
"His pulse has gone up suddenly," Mac explained in a shaky voice.  
  
Puzzled, Zanelli checked the readings on the many machines Harm was connected to.  
  
"There is definitely some brain activity going on in there," he confirmed, trying not to show his excitement. This could mean everything. Better not get the colonel's hopes up too high. "I wouldn't be surprised if it were just a slight irregularity, ma'am, that wouldn't tell anything about your husband's actual condition," he went on cautiously, "But we could give it a try." Turning to Harm he raised his voice. "Commander Rabb, do you hear me?"  
  
Harm felt Mac clasp his hand more firmly. ['Damn, yes, I hear you! Don't you doubt your monitor, man, you're my one ally at the moment,'] he implored the doctor.  
  
"Commander!" Zanelli put a hand on Harm's shoulder and shook him rather fiercely.  
  
Harm felt the force of his grip but his inward cry of pain wouldn't surface. ['I'll get you for that one, Commander, once I'm out of here,'] he silently swore.  
  
"You try, please, ma'am," he heard Zanelli address Mac. "He knows your voice."  
  
Mac once more tightened her grip on Harm's hand. "Harm. Harm! Do you hear me? It's me, Sarah! Harm!!" The last sound came out together with a sob.  
  
['Mac...'] Harm tried to reach out to her, despair choking him. ['I'm right with you, honey, can't you see?']  
  
Mac tried once more to call him and then slowly let go of his hand, taking her chair again. Zanelli silently placed a hand on her shoulder, hurting for the woman whose child would probably never know her father as who he had once been. The doctor then shook himself from his grief, knowing he had to keep a professional distance. Having administered Harm his eye drops, he left the room.  
  
Mac let her head rest on her arms on top of Harm's bed. "If this is our future I can't live through it," she sobbed, fresh tears flowing freely. "I can't, do you hear me???" she cried out forcefully, only to completely break down after, weeping her soul out for the man she loved, for the child she carried and for her own heart that was breaking into a million pieces.  
  
Unbeknownst to her, only inches away, her husband was going through exactly the same ordeal. Only that he was slowly but steadily nearing the verge of insanity as the pressure in his body, heart and soul kept building up to no limits, leaving him without a valve to let it out, though. His eyes had no tears to shed.  
  
Eventually Harm gave in to the voice that, at the back of his mind, tried to lure him into letting go and getting rid of the pain. Lost in her grief, Mac didn't notice that the steady beeping of the heart monitor kept getting slower and slower.  
  
  
  
Mon, Feb. 22nd 1502 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA  
  
  
  
Once again Mac braced herself and hoped her Marine mode would get her through this. During the weekend it had proven extremely difficult to get her mind off Harm for so much as a minute. But she had work to do. The admiral depended on her. And maybe work would be the only way she could get through this. So she had told Sturgis that she would gladly take over the first chair on the Cramer case as well, knowing he would object for the sake of her pregnancy but also knowing that they were extremely short on personnel. In the end he had given in, making her promise to let Fred and Bud do as much work for her as they could.  
  
Squaring her shoulders and drawing a shaky breath, Mac managed to smile as Fred pulled up in their driveway to pick her up. 'You can do this, Marine.'  
  
Fred got out, rounded the car and opened the door for her to get in. "Good morning, ma'am. How are you?" He gave her a smile of sincere compassion.  
  
"Thanks, Fred, I'm well, given the circumstances," Mac replied quietly, fastening her seatbelt.  
  
"How's the commander?" Fred started the engine and drove off.  
  
Mac sighed, frowning. "No change since Friday night. After the short period of increased brain activity he's just totally dropped out again. Seems as if something inside him struggled and then just let go."  
  
"Are you going to see him today?"  
  
"After my appointment with Claire, yes. Could you maybe drop me off?"  
  
"How are you going to get back, ma'am?"  
  
"I'll take a cab, that's all right, Fred."  
  
"Uhm, ma'am, I almost forgot," Fred pulled to the side and took a letter out of his inside pocket, "Claire told me to give you this to read before seeing her today. It's the results of your examination in New York. She says you might want to prepare a few questions."  
  
"Thanks." Biting her lip, Mac opened the letter while Fred drove on. From the corner of his eye the young lieutenant saw her skim the lines, frown, swallow and quietly put the letter into her purse.  
  
"If I may ask, ma'am... is Trisha okay?" Fred's voice once again sounded very formal, a sure sign that he was unsure if he could ask his superior officer such a personal question, regardless of whether she was a close friend or not.  
  
"Not quite, but I'm still relieved," came Mac's reply. "From what the doctor in New York explained to me, Trisha's heart irregularities could very well have turned out a serious congenital heart defect. But the results show that the heart is in normal shape. Our little one appears to suffer from a very light form of myocardiac insufficiency, though, and we need to go easy on her during the first years as it seems. I'll ask Claire for the particulars. Anyway, I was fearing far worse and, luckily, this thing isn't anything we can't handle. Our child having a heart defect would have been the cherry on top right now," Mac tried an attempt at humor, aware that she was still picturing Harm and herself raising Trisha together.  
  
For a while they were silent. From the way Fred tightly clutched the steering wheel and stared at the street, Mac could tell something was bothering him. "What's on your mind, Lieutenant?" she asked gently.  
  
Nervously clearing his throat, Fred cast a quick glance to where she sat. "You are due in less than two weeks, ma'am, right?"  
  
"Eleven days."  
  
"That means you could have your baby every day now, right?"  
  
"I guess." Mac waited for him to go on, not quite sure where this was leading.  
  
"Do you... do you really think it wise that I should take over on the Chegwidden case, ma'am? I mean, the admiral needs every help that he can possibly get. And if you should be out of it, too, when your daughter decides she wants to be born, that would leave me of all people to defend the U.S. Navy's JAG against murder charges." Fred had spoken in a rush, clearly not feeling well in questioning her decision to have him join the team.  
  
With a small smile, Mac put a reassuring hand on Fred's arm. "Don't worry. You'll do just fine, Fred. In the eight months that we've been working together you have proven yourself an excellent lawyer. You are very precise in your research - which is what you'll mainly do as long as I'm still on board - and you are a diplomat in court who wriggles testimonies out of witnesses in a rather unorthodox way, I give you that, but it turns out to be just as efficient as Harm's creative cross examinations or my no- nonsense direct approaches. And Sturgis has promised me to keep himself updated on the case so you'd have an extra-class second chair, should I really be totally out of the game. Which I won't, I promise."  
  
"Aye, ma'am." Fred gave her a quick half-smile, seeming not entirely convinced, but a good deal light of heart than before. "Here we are." With that he maneuvered the car into a parking space directly in front of Sydney Walden's medical practice. He and Mac had agreed to once again try to find out the nature of Sydney's preoccupation. As the Danny-drug line had led to no results whatsoever, this seemed to be the only lead left.  
  
A young urologist had agreed to act as a substitute for Sydney until the practice would be legally sold in Daniel Walden's name. Only few patients had dared to make an appointment yet, the situation of their doctor having been murdered making them feel uneasy. Mac and Fred stepped up to the reception desk.  
  
"Good morning, Col. Rabb," the receptionist greeted her rather uneasily, casting an unsure look in the lieutenant's direction. By not, all of Washington had read about everyone's favorite guitar-playing Navy commander having been shot, probably in connection with the murder trial the U.S. Navy's JAG was facing. What a story!  
  
"Good morning, Lisa," Mac returned the greeting. "My colleague will be taking over for my husband. Meet Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti from the Italian Navy." Fred and Lisa exchanged quiet nods. Mac went on. "Could we just have a look at Doctor Walden's files again as far as they aren't liable to medical confidentiality?"  
  
"Sure, follow me, please, ma'am, sir." Lisa led them into Sydney's deserted administrative office, leaving them alone.  
  
"So, ma'am, what are we looking for?" Fred asked Mac, glancing at the many, many folders with a lost expression on his face.  
  
Mac's chuckle was bitter. "Everything and nothing, Fred. Let's just get this over with." She grabbed the first case and settled down at Sydney's desk.  
  
A little while later - Fred had just finished the D's whereas Mac wasn't even halfway through B - the office door opened and one of the nurses stepped into the room, carrying a tray with two water glasses and a couple of cookies.  
  
"I thought, you might want some of these," she said smiling, throwing a knowing glance at Mac's impressive belly.  
  
"Thanks, Stephanie, I do appreciate that." Mac's grateful smile was genuine. She was about to turn back to her folders when she became aware that the nurse hesitated to leave the room as if something were bothering her. "Was there anything else?"  
  
"Uhm..." Stephanie looked around uneasily, eventually closed the door and motioned for Mac and Fred to move closer. Facing the officers' questioning glances, she put one hand under her coat and pulled out a small, dirty folder that she must have carried stuck in the waistband of her trousers. "Two days ago, I had to get an electric saw from Sydney's house 'cause we needed to repair a cupboard at the practice. I knew she kept it with her garden tools, and as I was looking for it in the small shed at the back of her lawn, I came across this. It was actually hidden in a sack of earth." She handed Mac the folder that, in spite of all the dirt, seemed to be a recent one. "I thought it might be of interest to you, that's why I... well... kind of confiscated it." She smiled a little guiltily.  
  
Thumbing through the folder, Mac's curiosity rose. 'Testicular cancer...' she mused, 'Quite a few recent cases among Sydney's patients.' Reading on, she whistled softly under her breath as she came by a scientific abstract on regional clusters of testicular germ cell cancer being attributed to a certain chemical called dimethylfomamide that had been used, among other things, in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of the airframes of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft before being substituted by less carcinogenic substances.  
  
'This would definitely be something I'd want to discuss with a military lawyer,' Mac thought, thrilled that they might have their first actual clue at hand, but still unsure about the possible connection between the cancer cases mentioned in the medical article and those that had obviously occurred among Sydney's patients. Deciding that she would study the medical details later, she went on skimming the pages while Fred and Stephanie were patiently waiting for her reaction.  
  
The missing link was supplied a few pages later on. There were notes that Sydney had obviously taken in a great hurry, somewhere outside as raindrops seemed to have washed away a few words. Sydney had described something she must have found somewhere in the woods near D.C., Mac would need to make out the exact location later on, trying to figure out what had been washed away. But it seemed that a certain waste disposal company by the name of Minton Greenwood had made easy money, getting rid of toxic waste by depositing it in the woods. From what Mac could make out this quickly, Sydney had located all her new testicular cancer patients' homes within a closely confined area, had gone looking around and had found the site by herself. A description of the exact whereabouts was given on the page Mac had just turned. Sydney had taken samples of the chemicals that she had found there and one of them had indeed turned out to be dimethylformamide.  
  
With a grim smile, Mac looked up and met the expectant glances of her two onlookers. "Thank you very much, Stephanie," she said slowly. "I think you just supplied some essential evidence in Admiral Chegwidden's favor."  
  
"I hope so, ma'am," the young nurse replied. "You know, we all liked him very much and we were sorry that things didn't work out between him and Sydney..."  
  
"I need a favor of you, though, Steph," Mac went on, earnestly gazing at the eager young woman. "Is there a laboratory you send samples to? Chemicals for instance," she clarified.  
  
"There is, ma'am. Doctor Walden used to see to those things herself but I think I know whom she turned to. Is there anything you would need me to check out for you?" she offered.  
  
"Actually, yes, there is. I would need you to go and collect a few samples from the laboratory. They have already been analyzed, the results are in here. But we need to keep the original samples safe. They might be vital evidence as well. Could you do that for me without raising too many questions? You can refer to me if they ask who authorized you." Mac hoped the young woman wouldn't be afraid and back away now.  
  
Luckily, Stephanie nodded without hesitation. "Of course, ma'am. I'll call you."  
  
Mac rose, safely storing the file in her briefcase. "I'll photocopy it for you, Fred, so you can take your time and go over it thoroughly." Turning once again to the nurse, Mac offered her a handshake. "Thank you so much for your help. I promise we will keep our source of information confidential."  
  
The nurse nodded, obviously relieved. "Thanks, ma'am."  
  
Fred and Mac greeted the staff, exited the medical practice and two minutes later found themselves in the privacy of their car.  
  
"Yes!!" they exclaimed unanimously, giving each other five. It was the first real laughter that escaped Mac's lips since Harm had been shot. She knew he would approve seeing her like this.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback - as always - highly appreciated!) 


	7. Chapter Seven

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Seven Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part six:  
  
Mac rose, safely storing the file in her briefcase. "I'll photocopy it for you, Fred, so you can take your time and go over it thoroughly." Turning once again to the nurse, Mac offered her a handshake. "Thank you so much for your help. I promise we will keep our source of information confidential."  
  
The nurse nodded, obviously relieved. "Thanks, ma'am."  
  
Fred and Mac greeted the staff, exited the medical practice and two minutes later found themselves in the privacy of their car.  
  
"Yes!!" they exclaimed unanimously, giving each other five. It was the first real laughter that escaped Mac's lips since Harm had been shot. She knew he would approve seeing her like this.  
  
  
  
Part Seven:  
  
Tue, Feb. 23rd 0223 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
A soft 'click' indicated that Mac had finally arrived. Harm had been anticipating the sound for at least two hours, he estimated, wishing once more that he had Mac's inner clock. Always listening intensely, he had become more and more uneasy when she didn't show up for such a long time after the hospital shifts had changed. Harm had been able to, more or less, keep track of time by counting how often he had been administered his eye drops, and when 2100 had passed without any sign of Mac, he had begun to seriously worry.  
  
Based on the fact that Mac always stayed with him until almost midnight he had concluded that she had somehow talked the hospital staff into softening the visiting regulations in their case, cunning negotiator that she was. Harm inwardly smiled. Mac would have succeeded in talking Romeo into staying with her after dawn and facing the consequences, had she been Juliet.  
  
He caught a glimpse of her as she walked by his bed. Concerned, he thought that she looked tired and weary. Surely she had plunged herself into her work. She tended to do that every time she didn't want to face problems in her own life. He hoped she would tell him about it. Two days ago, she had started to share with him the events of the day and the thoughts that were troubling her, telling him that even though she didn't count on him hearing her, it nevertheless helped her to clear her mind and come to conclusions about what she had to do.  
  
Feeling his hand clasped between hers, he heard a chair being pulled up and she settled down, softly kissing his palm.  
  
"Hey, sailor, how are you doing?"  
  
['Fine, now that you are with me, my favorite Marine. You know, Mac, you really shouldn't work so much. Think about Trisha...']  
  
"I'm sorry that I couldn't come any earlier," she interrupted his thoughts, "But I had an appointment with Claire, you know." Her voice was quiet and thoughtful. "She received the results from Trisha's heart examination..."  
  
['Oh God...']  
  
"...and I talked them over with her at length." Mac sighed, absentmindedly stroking her belly.  
  
['Tell me, Mac!'] Harm implored her silently.  
  
"Well, at least it's not a genetic defect. But she does have a slight myocardiac insufficiency, so you'll need to be gentle on her, sailor, when you teach her to play basketball..." Mac's voice trailed away as she seemed to be hit once more by the revelation that it wasn't very likely for him to even carry her around. A sniffle conveyed to Harm the direction her thoughts had been drifting in.  
  
['I swear to you, Sarah, you shall watch us play one day,'] he vowed, his heart aching.  
  
Mac had, for an instant, removed her hands from his. When she clasped his hand again, her palms were wet.  
  
['Oh my God, I can't bear when she cries and I can't do anything to comfort her.']  
  
"Anyway," she managed an unsteady chuckle of embarrassment, sniffing again and trying to lighten the mood and distract herself, "I have good news, too. Fred and I came up with something substantial in favor of the admiral today."  
  
['What? Hey, that's great, Marine! How did you...']  
  
"I'm sure you would want to know how we did that, huh? Well, I hate to admit it, and probably I wouldn't if you were really listening, but... the evidence was given to us by someone else. We had no credit in finding out. You remember that young nurse Sydney has... had with her in the practice?" Mac's voice had turned thoughtful again. "Stephanie. Bright girl. She joined Fred and me in Sydney's office and confidentially handed us a folder that she had found hidden in a sack of potting soil among Sydney's garden tools. I'm really surprised that none of the investigators found it." She sighed. "Maybe it was completely buried, it's very dirty, you know, and the sack fell over when she was looking for the saw"  
  
['Mac, come on, what's 'inside' the folder, dirty or not?']  
  
"Sydney must have been very worried about it that she hid it so well," Mac went on with her musings.  
  
['Maaac...']  
  
"She must have feared someone knew and would try to look for it. Maybe it was him - or her - that killed her? What do you think?"  
  
['I can't tell you what I think since I don't know what's inside!']  
  
"Humph. Not very talkative today, Commander, are we?" Harm felt her gently trace the outlines of his face with her knuckles. He longed to close his eyes, to lose himself in her touch, but he had to limit himself to ignoring the white wall he kept staring at.  
  
"As soon as I had a look at the contents I knew that we had the clue, Harm," Mac went on, getting up to sit on his bed, never letting go of his hand, distractedly resting it against her belly. Harm had her within his visual field now. She did look worn out and melancholy. But she was still incredibly beautiful to him. And he heard his heart monitor accelerate its beeping once more as he felt his daughter move against the back of his hand.  
  
Mac looked up for a moment, not really excited. By now, she'd gotten used to the slight irregularities of his pulse. They had no real significance as long as her husband was so far away from everything. Quietly she went on with her tale. "It took me a little while to figure it out but I think I managed to get the facts into a reasonable order in my mind. All that's left now is to procure the evidence. Then we should be able to clear Chegwidden from any charges." Again she paused, lost in thought.  
  
['What did you find, Mac? Please, tell me!']  
  
"This is about an environmental crime, flyboy," she began to explain. "I guess, for Sydney it all started a while ago when she became aware that she had an amazing increase in the numbers of patients who were diagnosed with testicular germ cell cancer. She got suspicious and looked up where those people lived. As it turns out, they come from, more or less, the same area west of D.C. She seems to have done a little research on the occurrence of regional clusters of testicular cancer cases and she came up with a scientific abstract on a certain chemical called dimethylformamide that, until a while ago, was used in the repair of exterior surfaces and electrical components of F4 Phantom Jets and other aircraft, among other things. I think that's when she began to fear the military could be involved 'cause there's a deserted Air Force airfield not too far away from the area where her cancer patients live.  
  
"So that must have been when she decided to talk it over with AJ. Anyway, she decided to snoop around a bit and somewhere nearby in the woods she found a spot where some waste disposal firm had easily gotten rid of their responsibilities and dumped their cargoes. She had them analyzed - the samples are secured these days, I talked Steph into seeing to it - and, actually, there seem to be firms that still use dimethylformamide, although it has been proven to be carcinogenic. I guess it's cheaper for them, and for the disposal companies, too, to just throw it away." Again she sighed, frowning. "I don't feel well at the thought that my daughter will grow up in a world that's slowly being destroyed by its own inhabitants. I mean, can we still let her go out and play without having to fear that she comes by some dangerous toxic waste? But I'll get those Minton Greenwood guys for what they've done, I swear to you, I will!"  
  
['Wait... Mac, did you just say Minton Greenwood?'] Harm's mind was instantly on high alert, his heart rate accelerating considerably.  
  
"Whoa, calm down, flyboy." Mac, with a wry smile, looked at him, caressing his cheek. "Your pulse is behaving as if you'd heard me. I promise, this case is almost wrapped up."  
  
['Mac doesn't know about what I found out about the Cramer case! She hasn't seen the evidence I left in my car...'] Harm's stomach knotted tightly as suddenly all the facts were falling into place inside his mind, showing a most surprising connection between two cases that, at first sight, seemed to be completely unrelated. How could Mac possibly have a clue that her knowledge about Minton Greenwood's saving policies was putting her into grave danger?  
  
To Harm, it was crystal clear that she had, through Sydney's discovery, stumbled over a double link to the Cramer case. First: Minton Greenwood belonged to the very same consortium as Branwick Industries. If Minton Greenwood made huge profits by using dishonest methods, this would explain how a small aeronautic firm like Branwick would be able to compete with enterprises like North Star. And second: Harm was sure that Branwick would have no scruples about using toxic and carcinogenic substances for their work if it helped them to save on the production costs and stay in the competition, in other words, to save their neck. He absolutely needed Mac to make the connection. And more important still: he needed her to see immediately that this knowledge could be lethal. Cramer hadn't hesitated for a second when it came to shooting him. Harm was sure she wouldn't spare a pregnant woman, either.  
  
"Oh no, I didn't call the admiral all day!" Mac suddenly exclaimed, clasping her mouth with her hand. "I promised to him that I would let him know as soon as we were able to dig up something! Better do it at once, right?" She winked at Harm, let go of his hand and got off his bed to leave the room.  
  
['Sarah, no! Don't tell anyone about what you found out! Call Fred and make him keep it secret! Don't call AJ, please, Mac, don't! Crap! How do I get through to her?'] Harm was frantically searching for a way to communicate with her, knowing all the time, though, that it was pointless. But he couldn't just let her walk into a catastrophe! He had to hold her back. But how, God, HOW???  
  
Powerless to do anything, he watched her walk through his visual field, when she suddenly stopped, gasped and doubled over, clutching her belly.  
  
['Sarah!!!']  
  
Panting, she retreated and sat down on the edge of his bed, slowly relaxing, before, all of a sudden, her face distorted again in pain and she tried to suppress a groan. "Shit!" he heard her swear under her breath, trying to control her breathing.  
  
"Harm," she panted, "Somehow I get the notion that your daughter has inherited her father's impatience." Again she had to inhale deeply. "Seems she just decided to be born a little early. I'm only glad I happen to be right here."  
  
['I'm going to be a father... and I can't even be with Mac and help her through it! I know how she dreaded giving birth... damn! Hang in there, Marine, I know you can do this! Do you hear me?']  
  
Another wave of pain made her suck in a deep breath and close her eyes, grimacing in agony. Harm watched, sharing her pains, unable to comfort her. When the tension lessened, Mac leaned back and reached for the 'call' button. Two minutes later a nurse entered the room.  
  
"I think I might need Doctor Farnham," was all Mac had to say to make the nurse understand.  
  
She quickly walked over and felt for Mac's pulse. "Stay where you are, please, Colonel Rabb, and try to relax. I'll have your obstetrician called right away. And I'll be back in a minute to get you to Delivery. Don't worry, ma'am." The nurse gave Mac an encouraging smile and hurriedly left the room.  
  
['I'm right with you, honey, you'll do just fine,'] Harm tried to let her know as she leaned back against him.  
  
"Don't worry, Harm. I've been through rougher things than this, I guess," she said, more to herself than to him, sounding rather shaky. For a moment she was silent. Then she added, so low that he almost didn't catch it: "I'm so scared, Harm, I'm scared like hell..."  
  
['I know, honey. So am I.']  
  
Three minutes later, the nurse was back with a wheelchair. She helped Mac get in and quickly wheeled her out of the room, leaving Harm sick with worry for his two girls.  
  
  
  
Tue, Feb. 23rd 0809 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
The cry made Mac open her eyes again. Although she was exhausted and at the verge of collapsing, she forced herself to sit up halfway and look at a beaming Claire who was approaching her with a little bundle.  
  
"Is that her?" Mac whispered in awe as she caught her first glimpse of Patricia Jeannine Rabb.  
  
"Yeah..." Claire gently lowered the baby into Mac's arms. "Congratulations, Mac. I know she gave you a hard time and we were worried about her heartbeat for a few moments, but I think I can safely say that you have a wonderful, healthy daughter that, in time, will grow stronger and be a happy little girl."  
  
"She's beautiful," Mac murmured to herself, blinking away a tear. Trisha had instantly settled down contently in her mother's arms, recognizing the voice she had grown accustomed to hear. She was a tiny creature, almost as if she had been born earlier than just ten days before the set date. But still, she looked fully developed, with delicate, slender limbs, Mac's olive tan and black hair.  
  
"She might be a little hungry," Claire suggested softly.  
  
Smiling at her friend, Mac carefully neared Trisha's little head to her breast and had to bite her lip to stop it from trembling when she for the first time felt her daughter drink. Looking up with a teary smile, Mac found that Claire's glance had turned rather misty, too. The young doctor cleaned her hands and then sat down at Mac's bedside.  
  
"I envy you, Mac," she confessed in a shaky whisper.  
  
"Hey," Mac replied softly, "You're still young, Claire. I'm sure, in a few years we'll all have to come over to Italy to admire Prumetti junior."  
  
Claire smiled. "Yeah, I know. It's just... hormones, I guess. I long to have children. And all children love Fred, you know. It's a picture for the gods to see him with them. He couldn't escape them, even if he wanted to. It doesn't matter if they know him or not, they just come to him and he could go on and play with them for hours and hours..." her voice trailed away as they watched Trisha drink.  
  
Mac didn't say anything. She just reached over and squeezed Claire's hand, earning herself a grateful smile in return. A few moments later, Trisha decided that she'd had enough. She turned her little head slightly, made some indefinite movement with her tiny arms and then opened her eyes. Although Mac knew that almost all babies had blue eyes, her breath nevertheless caught in her throat. Those weren't 'just' blue eyes. Her daughter had inherited Harm's unique blue-green ones, and as the little girl seemed to try and return the radiant smile that her mother was giving her, Mac had a faint idea that, one day, her daughter would use her smile as a secret weapon, just as her father did.  
  
"Claire, I... I'd like to take her to Harm's room for a moment. I know that he can't see her but I'd like to take her to him nevertheless. Do you think I can?"  
  
"I don't know if that's okay with... oh, never mind," Claire interrupted herself with a smile upon seeing Mac's disappointment. "I'll explain the situation, should anyone complain. Come on, I'll wheel you over to him. But just a few moments, okay? You need to rest, both of you girls," she admonished.  
  
"Aye, ma'am," Mac replied with a grin. "Could you hold her for a moment while I put my robe on?" She handed her daughter to her friend who carefully took her and seemed to revel in the feeling of having the baby in her arms.  
  
"It's funny, Mac. I mean, this is my job. I do this practically every day. But still, every time I deliver a baby, it feels like a miracle," Claire mused.  
  
"Because it is," Mac stated quietly, as she again took her daughter who had by now fallen asleep. She settled in the wheelchair that Claire had pulled over, and silently they made their way back through the dimly-lit corridors until they reached the ICU. With a smile, Claire helped Mac stand, opened the door for her and immediately turned to wheel back the chair, promising to return and get her in a little while.  
  
Harm was amazed that he hadn't completely lost his senses by now. He was sure that he would have been pacing restlessly up and down the corridor, had he been his normal self. Instead he was forced to be completely immobile. Which didn't mean that the tension inside him was any less than it would have been otherwise. He repeatedly prayed, listened, tried to relax, prayed, listened, tried to relax, prayed...  
  
... until finally, finally, he heard the by now familiar 'click' of his door. A second later a little side-light was turned on near his bed and then he saw her. Saw them. His wife and his daughter. In the dim light, Mac resembled the Virgin Mary herself, holding her child in her arms, her smile angelic. Harm's heart monitor again slightly accelerated its beeping.  
  
"It's as if you knew who's here with me," Mac said softly, approaching him. Concluding that, although he probably couldn't, she would still take the chance and try to make him see his child, Mac sat down on Harm's bed within his visual field, close to him. Harm felt himself starting to tremble inwardly as she neared the little girl to his eyes. He couldn't quite bring himself to believe that he and Mac had created something so delicate and perfect.  
  
"Harm, I want you to meet Patricia Jeannine Rabb. Trisha, this is your daddy."  
  
['Daddy. Wow. Hey, little one, I'm sorry I can't greet you properly right now but I hope you know that I love you very much.']  
  
"She's just perfect. I wish you could see her, flyboy."  
  
['A beauty, like her mom.'] Harm desperately wanted to let Mac know that she was actually sharing this hallmark moment with him. ['God, help me! Let me find a way to get to her, please!] he implored. Trying to gather all that was possibly left of his force within his whole body, and collecting all the willpower he had within himself, he tried to focus on one small part of his immobile shell, battling against the unwilling muscles and the numb feeling. And with an inhuman effort, he finally succeeded in willing his body to react.  
  
Mac's eyes widened in shock and her hands started to shake violently as she suddenly realized what was happening: slowly, incredibly slowly, Harm's left eyelid closed and opened again. A few seconds later, the movement would repeat itself. And again, for a third time, making tears of joy rise in Mac's eyes.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	8. Chapter Eight

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Eight Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part seven:  
  
"Harm, I want you to meet Patricia Jeannine Rabb. Trisha, this is your daddy."  
  
['Daddy. Wow. Hey, little one, I'm sorry I can't greet you properly right now but I hope you know that I love you very much.']  
  
"She's just perfect. I wish you could see her, flyboy."  
  
['A beauty, like her mom.'] Harm desperately wanted to let Mac know that she was actually sharing this hallmark moment with him. ['God, help me! Let me find a way to get to her, please!] he implored. Trying to gather all that was possibly left of his force within his whole body, and collecting all the willpower he had within himself, he tried to focus on one small part of his immobile shell, battling against the unwilling muscles and the numb feeling. And with an inhuman effort, he finally succeeded in willing his body to react.  
  
Mac's eyes widened in shock and her hands started to shake violently as she suddenly realized what was happening: slowly, incredibly slowly, Harm's left eyelid closed and opened again. A few seconds later, the movement would repeat itself. And again, for a third time, making tears of joy rise in Mac's eyes.  
  
  
  
Part Eight:  
  
"Harm..." Mac managed to whisper as she quickly shifted Trisha's weight so she could hold her with one arm, and with her now free hand reached out to cup his face, tenderly caressing it with her thumb. Her huge eyes told of her inner turmoil and Harm could feel the trembling in her caress. A deep vertical furrow had appeared between her eyebrows and she was obviously holding her breath. But despite the increasing tension that was almost palpable in the room, Harm, for the first time since he had regained consciousness, felt a small amount of his pain dissolve as he savored the feel of Mac's fingers on his cheek, knowing that she had understood that he was with her.  
  
Mac's face relaxed into a watery smile as realization dawned on her that she hadn't been left alone, whether or not Harm was able to fully profess his feelings. In the wink of an eye her life was back on track, strength and resolve rising within her. 'In the wink of an eye' - the phrase had taken up a totally new and literal meaning. It wasn't merely an expression for a moment in time, it was a promise that their road wouldn't end here at Bethesda. That there was a way to return into each other's arms. That all they had to do was not lose hope and fight. As they always had.  
  
Briefly closing her eyes, Mac swallowed. "Almighty Father, I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you for bringing him back," she prayed in a whisper. Then her face again softened to a slightly embarrassed smile and she sniffed. "Pretty pathetic, huh? Anyway, I guess I'd better call Zanelli and let him know you're with us, sailor."  
  
Panic instantly swept over Harm. ['No, Mac, don't! Please! You mustn't tell anyone that I'm back!] God, if she only knew about the connection between the two cases! Then she would understand that she and Trisha would only be safe as long as Cramer didn't suspect that Harm was able to pass on his disclosures to anyone. He absolutely had to make sure that no one knew. But how? ['Please, Mac, look at me, listen to your feelings. Don't push that button! Please!'] he frantically implored her.  
  
Once again, it was his heart monitor that made Mac freeze in mid-action. The beeping had accelerated considerably without warning. Mac instantly turned her attention back to Harm's face, concern forcing her to bite her lip to prevent it from trembling.  
  
"Harm!" Her eyes searched his face for any possible indication to what his obvious excitement could be about. Meeting his gaze, she suddenly convinced herself that she detected the slightest disturbance in his formerly absentminded expression. She looked closer, subconsciously shifting her baby back into both her arms and holding her tighter. In her husband's eyes, Mac read fear. Cold fear and desperation to tell her about it.  
  
"Shhh," she tried to soothe him, her voice tight. "I don't know why this upsets you so much, but I won't call the doctor if you don't want me to. I..."  
  
"Mac?" Claire had softly opened the door and tried to hide her bewilderment as she saw that Mac seemed so obviously distressed about something and could hear her talking to her husband as if in actual conversation. "Is everything all right?"  
  
Mac turned, her facial expression resembling that of a chased deer. "Uhm... yeah... I mean..." Should she, could she trust Claire with what she had just found out about Harm's condition, when her attempt to call Zanelli had caused him such fear? Mac would have confided in Claire with anything, but something held her back, and it made her wonder why. She gulped and motioned for her friend to move closer. "Claire, I feel I need time with Harm and Trisha. Alone. And I need it now. Please, don't ask. I'll tell you later, right now I don't feel up to it. Please, could you arrange with Zanelli that he lets us stay here? Please."  
  
Mistaking Mac's frantic impatience to know what Harm wanted to communicate to her for pain about Harm's condition and the need to somehow adapt to the situation, Claire nodded slowly. She put a soothing hand on Mac's shoulder. "If you promise to lay down and rest, I'll ask Zanelli for an additional bed to be brought over, all right?"  
  
"I promise." Gratitude flashed in Mac's eyes for a second before the haunted expression took over again. Claire turned and walked out of the room.  
  
Harm had felt overwhelming relief with the realization that Mac had obviously understood that he needed to tell her something. He was sure that, if Zanelli let her stay, they'd figure out a way to communicate. The instant that Claire had closed the door behind herself, Mac again locked her eyes with his. The anxiety showing on her face and his own fear of not being able to get his vital information to her made his heart ache.  
  
Mac tried to use Harm's eyes as a window to his mind but wasn't able to read him. Although she was able to sense his fear, her psychic abilities couldn't make her understand what he wanted to tell her. 'Okay, think, Mackenzie. All he can do is move his eyelid. So his ability to communicate is reduced to some sort of binary code. 'Wink' or 'no wink'. This could work.'  
  
"Harm," she addressed him in a clear but low voice, "Try to think binary. I'll ask and you answer. Winking means 'yes' and not winking means 'not yes'. I don't intend 'no', I'm talking of 'not yes', like the on/off-thing in a computer flip-flop. One or zero. Do you understand me?" Again chewing her lip, she anxiously waited for his reaction.  
  
['I always knew there was a reason why I loved you so much, Marine.'] Almost lighthearted at the prospect of 'talking' to his wife, Harm inwardly flashed her his patented grin. And the slightest trace of it must have shown in his eyes as she responded with a smile of her own. Focusing on his left eye, Harm willed the lid down and up again.  
  
"Are you able to completely control the movements of your eyelid?" Mac had to make sure that there would be no room for misinterpretations on her side.  
  
Again, Harm winked.  
  
Her relief once again threatened to overwhelm her, but luckily just then the door opened and a bed was wheeled in by Zanelli and Claire.  
  
"Just for the record, ma'am," Zanelli stated with half-earnest frown, "I don't approve of this."  
  
"Thank you anyway, Commander," Mac answered gratefully. "I promise to be prudent."  
  
"I don't suppose I could dissuade you from staying, so I won't try, ma'am, but could you please make it an order so you take the responsibility?" Zanelli uneasily shifted his weight from one foot to the other and back.  
  
Mac smiled. "Sure. Lt. Cmdr. Zanelli, I order you to let me stay with my husband tonight, and I take full responsibility of the situation. Does that suffice?"  
  
Zanelli shook his head, chuckling. "It definitely does, ma'am. We'll take your daughter back to the Nursery for you. You shouldn't walk around any more now."  
  
The moment Zanelli had said this, he regretted being receptive to pleading looks. The colonel's eyes begged him to give them a little more time. "Couldn't she stay another half-hour, please, doctor?" Mac asked him.  
  
He exchanged a helpless look with Claire who just shrugged her shoulders in an 'Okay-with-me-if-it's-okay-with-you' gesture. Defeated, he turned back to Mac. "Half an hour. But after that not even ordering me will change my mind, Colonel. And please, remember that your husband needs his eye-drops. I'll leave that task to you, if you don't object. If you'll excuse me now, please, ma'am..."  
  
"You have my permission to go," Mac replied, hiding her smile, seeing that Zanelli longed to leave the room.  
  
"Aye, ma'am." The doctor turned and walked to the door, stopping in mid- stride, though, and turning back. "Permission to speak freely, ma'am?"  
  
"Go ahead."  
  
"You have a beautiful daughter, ma'am. Congratulations and my very best wishes, for all of you."  
  
Mac smiled at the young man. "Thank you, Commander Zanelli."  
  
The doctor smiled warmly in return and then left the room. Claire, too, walked out, but quickly popped her head back in and winked at Mac. "You owe me for this, Colonel."  
  
"I know, Claire. Thank you so much." Mac watched as the door finally closed behind Claire. Then she immediately turned back to her husband.  
  
Harm had been following the whole scene with a wide inward grin. Now that he had found a way out of his cocoon, an enormous weight had been taken off his heart, although he was still desperate that his limbs wouldn't budge. ['One thing at a time, Hammer. You will conquer this, you know you will.']  
  
"Harm, can you feel this?" Mac's voice shook him from his musings. She was softly caressing his cheek again. Slowly he closed and re-opened his left eye, reveling in the feeling of somehow being able to return her tenderness, even if it were only passively.  
  
Mac had put the still sleeping Trisha down on Harm's chest, securing her with her left hand, and he was overwhelmed at the sensation of the little warm bundle's weight. He saw Mac get up from his bed and close the distance between them. She closed her eyes as she bent down and kissed him very softly. He was aching to respond as she let her lips linger on his, her mouth caressing his immobile own.  
  
"Did you feel that, too?" she asked in a whisper as she pulled back.  
  
He winked again. ['I've rarely felt anything so wonderful, Sarah. I love you.']  
  
She smiled as she returned to sit on his bed. She lifted Trisha to lie on her left arm and made sure they were seated within Harm's visual field. "You can see her, right?" she asked softly.  
  
He winked. ['She's beautiful.']  
  
Mac took his left hand in her right and neared it to the baby's face. Harm's heart skipped a beat as his fingertips touched his daughter's rosy cheeks. Mac helped him caress Trisha's little face, feel her hair, the warmth of her body and even the beating of her heart. Finally she put Harm's index finger into Trisha's little palm and by reflex the tiny girl's fingers instantly closed around it, the movement never waking her up.  
  
Had Harm been able to cry, there would have been nothing that could possibly have held him back. From the bottom of his soul, he thanked God for his wonderful wife who had the unique gift to just sense what he needed most right now - to feel his daughter - and who had given birth to her, completing his life with his child's and her very own loving presence.  
  
"I guess you long to say something, don't you?"  
  
He winked. ['You have no idea... Mac, I...']  
  
"Do you want to say thank you, flyboy?" she asked gently.  
  
['Yeah.'] The eyelid went down and up almost instantly, telling how much he longed to thank her. Mac moved Trisha a little closer to him, knowing he needed a few moments to just look at her.  
  
Feeling the slight pressure that the girl's fingers exercised on his index and seeing her sleep in her mothers arm, unaware of all the pain and struggles in the world, Harm's heart melted. ['My little one. In this tiny hand of yours, you hold not just Daddy's finger but the whole of Daddy's heart, you know that, don't you?'] He then realized that he had been conquered. ['Better be prepared to be wrapped around her finger in no time, Hammer,'] he silently admonished himself.  
  
Just then Trisha woke. Harm felt her move her arms, tearing at his finger but never releasing it from her surprisingly firm grip.  
  
"Look at her eyes, Harm," Mac whispered as she moved her closer still to his face. "They are yours."  
  
Harm just watched in awe.  
  
"Do you want me to tell her that you love her?" Mac's voice was not entirely even.  
  
He winked, finding the movement getting easier with every new try.  
  
Mac freed Harm's finger, took Trisha back to both her arms and cradled her against her chest, beaming at her. "Hey, little one, your daddy asked me to tell you that he loves you very much," she said softly, her voice taking on a new tone that Harm had never heard before. This was Sarah Mackenzie, the mother of his children. Only then did he realize in full that his dream had finally become reality.  
  
"I guess she has my stomach," Mac observed dryly, still smiling at the little girl. With one hand, she carefully opened her bathrobe and began to feed her. Harm decided he had never seen anything so touching. After a couple of moments that they quietly enjoyed watching Trisha drink, Mac sobered and turned her attention back to Harm.  
  
"So why don't you want me to tell Zanelli?"  
  
Harm inwardly frowned. ['I don't want you to tell anyone, but maybe you should rephrase so I can answer, counselor.']  
  
Mac seemed to notice her error and smiled a little embarrassedly. "I'm sorry, Harm. I think I need to get accustomed to this new way of questioning. Next try. Uhm... If I told anyone that you are conscious, do you think something might happen to you?"  
  
['Finally we're getting somewhere.'] He winked.  
  
"Only to you?"  
  
He willed his eye to stay open.  
  
"To me?"  
  
He winked.  
  
A little disconcerted, she went on. "To anyone else?"  
  
He winked.  
  
Her eyes widened in slight shock. "You don't mean Trisha, do you?"  
  
['Mac, how am I supposed to answer a question like this?']  
  
While Harm was debating whether or not she would misinterpret him, Mac realized her mistake. "Sorry. I'll rephrase. Do you think Trisha might be in danger, too?"  
  
['Good girl.'] He winked.  
  
He noted that Mac had switched to Marine-mode now, not wanting to face the anguish that came with his revelation. She went on. "Do you know something I don't?"  
  
He winked.  
  
"Is this about the Chegwidden case?"  
  
He winked, silently imploring her to ask if it might go beyond.  
  
"You found out something while I was away."  
  
Again he winked.  
  
Mac frowned. Sturgis had told her that Harm had been away to do research on the Cramer case, as he was too frustrated by the fact that nothing had come out in AJ's favor. "But Sturgis told me that you were investigating on Cramer's behalf."  
  
['Follow this road, Mac, follow this road.'] He winked.  
  
"Anything new?"  
  
He winked.  
  
"Could you clear the lieutenant commander?" Mac asked, not really knowing where she would be going with this line of questioning. He had told her that he was concerned about the admiral's case. Yet he had been investigating the explosion. There was some detail to the picture that just didn't fit.  
  
['No. The opposite.'] Harm stared right through her.  
  
"So Cramer is guilty?" Mac asked slowly.  
  
He winked.  
  
"There is more to it, right?" she inquired, suddenly wary.  
  
Again he winked.  
  
"So you investigated Cramer and you are worried about Chegwidden?" she repeated, trying to get a grip on some substantial information.  
  
He winked, watching as she lifted a satisfied Patricia Rabb to her left shoulder and very gently patted her back. Seemingly in deep thought, she then adjusted her bathrobe and again cradled the baby in her arms as soon as the little one had settled down to sleep. All this seemed so natural with her, as if she'd always done it. Harm suddenly felt ashamed that he hadn't offered her the opportunity to be a mother years ago instead of talking about that ridiculous deal.  
  
"So, if I read this right, you think there might be a connection between the two cases?" Her voice was heavy with doubt, her brow furrowing.  
  
['There is, Mac, believe me.'] He winked.  
  
"Okay..." she seemed to be talking more to herself than to him now, her voice low and thoughtful. "Let's find out how they might be connected." Looking up to meet his eyes again, she tried to approach the issue. "Do you have any idea who killed Sydney?"  
  
['Not yet.'] He remained still.  
  
"So that's not it." She was silent. Harm thought he could almost feel the thoughts spin through her mind. Suddenly her eyes widened slightly. "Wait... I remember that you seemed excited over what I told you. The folder and the things Fred and I found out. Does this have anything to do with what you're trying to tell me?"  
  
['You go, girl! I knew you would figure it out.'] As he closed and opened his left eyelid, his heart monitor accelerated its beeping once again.  
  
Mac's face relaxed to a slight smile. "Okay, so I'm headed in the right direction?"  
  
He acknowledged, inwardly sighing with relief.  
  
Meanwhile, Mac's smile had turned to a frown again. "So far, so good. But how in God's name might cancer cases be related to engine explosions?" she mused, a little exasperated.  
  
['The aircraft, Mac. The link is the aircraft!'] he tried to help her.  
  
"All right, Sydney has all those new cases. She looks for an explanation and finds it in environmental pollution, caused by a certain chemical called dimethylformamide. This stuff, she finds out, has been used in connection with fighter jets and..." Suddenly Mac paled and sucked in her breath, fixing her stare to Harm's. "Fighter jets," she repeated slowly. "Is this where the engines step onto the stage?"  
  
A slow wink was her answer, and as she looked deeply into his eyes, she was convinced she could detect relief in his thoughts.  
  
"I guess this thing is getting far too complicated to have it all explained by using this kind of binary language," she observed sarcastically as she began to understand what Harm seemed to have stumbled over. She tried a different approach instead. "Do you have any evidence concerning whatever this is?"  
  
He winked, hoping the papers hadn't been discovered.  
  
"Is it in your office?"  
  
No reaction.  
  
"At home?"  
  
Still no reaction.  
  
"Come on, Harm, don't leave me hanging here. At the Roberts' maybe?"  
  
No reaction.  
  
"Or at Fred and Claire's? No, they would have told me. Is it... in you car?"  
  
['I was beginning to worry, jarhead.'] He winked.  
  
"From what I'll find there - if I find it, that is - would I be able to understand the connection?"  
  
He winked.  
  
"Good." Mac let out a relieved sigh, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear with the slightest of grim smiles. But all at once, she sobered, her eyes growing wide. "You were trying to take it home when they shot you. There were traces on your car as if someone had tried to steal it. But what if... what if whoever shot you wasn't interested in your car but in what was inside? Is that what happened?" With a worried expression in her huge eyes, she eagerly leaned forward. "Is it, Harm?"  
  
['You got it, Watson.'] He winked.  
  
Mac swallowed, getting an indistinct feeling that she might be very near the source of his fear for her safety. If he had indeed been shot for what he seemed to know... then, of course, his, their only way to protect themselves was keeping absolutely secrecy about two essential facts: first, that she found out, and, second, that he was able to tell her. Her voice went down to almost a whisper: "Do you... do you know who shot you?"  
  
['Damn right I know!'] He winked.  
  
"Was it someone who could be a suspect in the Chegwidden case?"  
  
['Sure she could, but I don't know. I hope you get me right, Mac.'] He stared, not moving.  
  
"So it was someone connected to the Cramer case?"  
  
He acknowledged her question.  
  
"Was it... was it Cramer herself?" Mac couldn't bring herself to really believe it but she had to start somewhere. To her utmost shock, he instantly winked.  
  
"Oh my God..."  
  
['You understand now why you have to keep it secret, don't you, Sarah? If anything happened to you or Trisha...'] He didn't dare to finish the thought.  
  
Mac's thoughts were headed in a similar direction. "First thing in the morning, I'll call Fred and tell him to keep everything secret. Then I'll have him look for the evidence that you left in your car. Now don't you worry, sailor, I'll be careful. We'll get the admiral out of this and I'll get Cramer's six for doing this to you. I swear to you, I will, and she's gonna regret this as long as she lives!"  
  
['My Marine. I know you'll do just fine. And while I'm out of it, I'll be working on a little surprise for you.']  
  
"Now I'll let you have your eye drops and then I'll lie down myself, right here. Claire should be here any minute to get our little one. Kiss Trisha goodnight, will you?" Mac had gotten up and neared the bundle to his face until her cheek touched his lips. "She's a miracle, isn't she, Daddy?"  
  
Overwhelmed by the feel of Trisha's soft skin on his lips, Harm once again winked, trying to convey to Mac all that was going on inside him right now. Thank her, tell her that he loved her, that he loved Trisha, that he was glad to have found a way to her in spite of the chasm that was separating them.  
  
As she softly kissed him goodnight, Mac's glance melted with his, and for the fraction of a second, she could read him. "We've made it this far, Harm. We'll make it through. I promise."  
  
['So do I.']  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback highly appreciated!) 


	9. Chapter Nine

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Nine Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part eight:  
  
"Now I'll let you have your eye drops and then I'll lie down myself, right here. Claire should be here any minute to get our little one. Kiss Trisha goodnight, will you?" Mac had gotten up and neared the bundle to his face until her cheek touched his lips. "She's a miracle, isn't she, Daddy?"  
  
Overwhelmed by the feel of Trisha's soft skin on his lips, Harm once again winked, trying to convey to Mac all that was going on inside him right now. Thank her, tell her that he loved her, that he loved Trisha, that he was glad to have found a way to her in spite of the chasm that was separating them.  
  
As she softly kissed him goodnight, Mac's glance melted with his, and for the fraction of a second, she could read him. "We've made it this far, Harm. We'll make it through. I promise."  
  
['So do I.']  
  
  
  
Part Nine:  
  
Wed, Feb. 24th 1534 ZULU Navy Yard Detention Facility Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Admiral, sir, you have visitors."  
  
AJ looked up from 'Twelfth Night' and raised his eyebrows. Fred had just called him from the office an hour ago, not mentioning any intention to come and see him today. And Mac had the habit of telling him beforehand every time she intended to drop by. Who could it be?  
  
The guards took him to the interrogation room. A moment later, AJ was surprised when he heard Mac's voice from the door that stood slightly ajar. "Can we come in, sir?"  
  
"Colonel, now this is a nice surprise for a change. Who's with you? Lt. Prumetti?" AJ turned to see Mac's head between the door and the doorframe. She looked tired, he decided, but something about her made him look twice. She was beaming from within. 'Rabb is a lucky man,' AJ thought, only to mentally slap himself immediately after, as he remembered the commander's condition.  
  
"No, sir." Mac's voice rang with suppressed laughter. "There's someone here who'd like to get to know you." She opened the door and stepped into the room. AJ's mouth dropped open at seeing the huge bundle she was carrying. He immediately sprang to his feet.  
  
"Mac! Why didn't you call me?" Rushing over, he smiled at her and then looked down at JAG's newest addition. "How many layers did you wrap her in, Colonel?" he asked, frowning.  
  
Mac smiled a little guiltily. "Well, sir, first: it's February outside. She was only born yesterday, and normally they wouldn't even let me take her out. But I absolutely had to go home and get back to my files so they grudgingly let me take her with me if I wrapped her up like this. I just thought I might as well step by and say hello."  
  
AJ looked up, searching Mac's face. His eyes narrowed to thin slits when he spoke. "Spill it, Colonel. There's more, right?"  
  
Letting out a sigh, Mac nodded. "You know me too well, sir. But..." she handed the bundle to the admiral and shut the door. "We shouldn't be talking about this while they can hear us. Sir, would you please take away the topmost blanket I wrapped her in?"  
  
AJ, with raised eyebrows, did so. A folder slipped out from underneath and landed on the floor with a clear 'splat'. A deep vertical furrow was showing on AJ's forehead as he just stared at Mac, at a loss.  
  
Mac quickly picked up the folder, placed it on the table and then took her daughter from her CO's arms again. "That..." she motioned to the folder, "Is something that I'll need to explain to you later. First: sir, meet Patricia Jeannine Rabb."  
  
As Mac freed the little girl of the thick overcoat she had been wearing, AJ's heart melted instantly. She looked so much like her mother. "She's beautiful, Mac. Congratulations." Sobering, he then looked up at her. "How do you cope... I mean... with Harm not being able to see her?" Concern was clearly showing on his features.  
  
To his surprise, Mac's face lit up to a somewhat teary smile. "He has, sir," she stated very low.  
  
"What?" AJ's heart leapt. "Did he wake? How is he?"  
  
"Pretty much the same, sir. But - and we have to keep this absolutely confidential - he was never really out of it. It's just that no one noticed."  
  
Chegwidden was at a loss. "Could you please clarify that, Colonel?" he asked slowly.  
  
"Well," Mac tried to explain, "From what I can tell he notices everything that goes on around him. He can see within his visual field. He can hear. He can feel. He understands and he thinks clearly. It's just that he can't move. There was absolutely no way for him to let us know that he was with us all this time..." her voice broke, telling how much she was still hurting for him, imagining what her husband must have gone through.  
  
On impulse, AJ put his arm around her, squeezing her back. "How did you find out?" he finally asked.  
  
Sniffling embarrassedly, Mac let out a slight chuckle. "Please excuse my behavior, sir. I guess it's one last round on the pregnancy roller coaster."  
  
"Nonsense. You're entitled to be confused, to say the least, Colonel." AJ let the old gruffness return to his voice, knowing it helped his Chief of Staff to regain her composure. "So, how did he make himself known?"  
  
"He somehow managed to wink, sir. He can move his left eyelid. And we even established a communication routine. Binary. It takes time, but it works perfectly, as long as I ask the right questions," Mac told him, smiling.  
  
Relief welled up inside the admiral. His big kid was back on track. Had he ever thought he could get rid of Rabb? 'Obviously not...' he silently told himself, chuckling inwardly. "He'll be alright, Mac," AJ told her. "He's made it this far. And he's stubborn."  
  
"I know, sir. And it's not the first time that I'm grateful that he's so thickheaded." She bent down and gently stroked Trisha's cheek. "She won't wake, sir, I'm sorry. I wanted you to see that she's got Harm's eyes."  
  
"Let her sleep. I'll still have the opportunity to see her. Uhm..." AJ wasn't sure how to approach the subject.  
  
Mac just smiled. She had seen this expression once too often on Harm's face whenever little AJ was around. "You want to hold her, sir?"  
  
AJ grinned a little sheepishly. "If I may?"  
  
"Of course." Mac gently placed the tiny baby into AJ's broad arms.  
  
For a minute, the admiral just looked at the girl, smiling. Then, never looking up, he addressed Mac. "So what's in the folder, Colonel?"  
  
"Your salvation, sir."  
  
AJ looked up in surprise. "What day is today?"  
  
"February 24th, sir."  
  
"Remind me to call it my personal lucky day once I get out of here. First this little girl and now..." He frowned, suddenly suspicious. "Why so secretive, Colonel?"  
  
Mac sighed. "Harm found out first. And he instantly managed to convince me that secrecy is the only thing that may insure his or my or even Trisha's personal safety."  
  
"How so?"  
  
Mac took a deep breath and then started to relate the events to her CO. How she had told Harm about the folder she and Fred had been given at Sydney's practice. How Harm had then told her about his own findings on the Cramer case. How she had searched and finally found the evidence in Harm's car. "I photocopied the most important things for you, sir. And I diminished them so they fit in your Shakespeare edition. You, me, Harm and Fred are the only ones who know. Cramer thinks Harm is out for good. So we must keep this quiet until we come up with the decisive piece of evidence that proves the link that we have theoretically established between Minton Greenwood and the North-Star data Branwick obviously received from Cramer. We just thought you might want to have the facts printed out. Four minds might work better than three. And we might be forced to include Bud, too, because we might need his computer expertise. Anyway, my time's almost up. I have to get going. Please, think over the facts, sir. We don't have much time left until the trial. Whatever you come up with might be important."  
  
AJ rose again. "Thanks, Mac," he said quietly. "I hadn't really hoped for something like this."  
  
Meeting her CO's glance openly, Mac nodded. "Honestly, neither did we, sir."  
  
"Tell Harm hello, will you?"  
  
"Sure. He'll be pleased to hear from you, sir. Trisha, say goodbye to Uncle AJ." Mac, with her fingertips, gently wiped a thin strand of dark hair from her daughter's forehead.  
  
"Bye, Cadet Rabb," AJ murmured with a smile. "Hope to see you awake soon."  
  
Wrapping the now empty folder into the blanket again, Mac summoned the guard to open the door. In the doorway she turned, noticing that AJ was putting the sheets under his T-shirt. "Hurry up, please, sir," she whispered. He only winked, smiled and re-closed his coverall.  
  
"Bye, Colonel. Now go home and spend some quality time with your daughter, will you?"  
  
"Aye, sir." Waving a quick goodbye, Mac left the room.  
  
'I wonder if I'll ever see Francesca with a child,' AJ mused as he was being escorted back to his cell.  
  
  
  
Wed, Feb 24th 2212 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Hey, sailor. How are you doing?"  
  
['Rephrase, Mac, rephrase.'] Harm was feeling the slightest bit of exasperation.  
  
"Sorry." Mac had noticed by herself. "Are you feeling okay?"  
  
He winked.  
  
"All pretty much the same, right?" She gave him something between a smile and a frown, waiting for his wink. It didn't come.  
  
"Hey, you alright?" Mac's face showed immediate concern.  
  
He winked, inwardly grinning widely.  
  
"Okay, sailor. Is there something I should know?" Her voice was rather stern.  
  
He winked.  
  
Mac let out a groan. "Where am I supposed to start asking? Okay. Is it about the case?"  
  
His face was perfectly still.  
  
"Good... about your condition?"  
  
He winked.  
  
"Any problems?"  
  
He willed his eye to stay open, making Mac release the breath she had been holding.  
  
"I wish you could just tell me," she sighed, preparing herself for a long and detailed interrogation.  
  
['Look at me, Mac,'] he tried to tell her. Eventually, she did so. Gathering all of his strength and focus, just like he had when he had first winked at her, he simultaneously closed both eyes and opened them again.  
  
"Wow! Harm, that's... that's marvelous! You've been very busy, right?" Mac's brilliant smile immediately made Harm decide that it had been worth the hours he had spent practicing.  
  
Mac got up from the bed, stepped close to him and gently kissed him. "You deserved a reward, squid," she explained, grinning.  
  
['Then prepare for another,'] he thought, ['hopefully...']  
  
Mac had again taken a seat on his bed where he could see her. Smiling, she gently stroked his cheek.  
  
['Okay, Hammer, let's do it.'] Feeling as if he were hauling a huge stone up a hill like Sysiphus, he slowly willed the corners of his mouth to stretch upward. It was only the shadow of a smile, but Mac's heart skipped a beat.  
  
"Oh my God..." She took his hand and brought it to her cheek. "Thanks, Harm," she whispered. "Thanks for never giving up."  
  
['I told you, you'll see Trisha and me play baseball, or basketball, or whatever.'] Harm decided he had never yet been so proud of himself as he felt right now.  
  
Just then the room door clicked open. Harm instantly let his mouth relax and prepared to keep his eyes strictly immobile. A moment later, Fred stepped into the room.  
  
['Hey, junior, nice to see you!']  
  
Fred at once approached the little crib on wheels that Trisha was sleeping in. He had seen her the day before when he, together with Bud, Harriet and Tiner, had come to see Harm and had found Mac and Claire sitting by his side with Trisha.  
  
"Ciao piccia!" he said softly, "Come va? Sei una brava ragazza, vero?" [Ciao, little one! How are you? You're a good girl, right?] "I'm sorry, Mac." He straightened and smiled, finally letting slip formality as they had once been used to back in Venice.  
  
'Must be the influence of a kid on an Italian heart,' Mac thought, grinning.  
  
"I don't know why but Italian just comes to me naturally when I'm talking to children," he apologized.  
  
"That's okay, Fred. Now, did you study the files I sent you?"  
  
"Yeah, I did. And I kept everything confidential. But how on earth did you figure that out?" His frown was impressive.  
  
Chuckling, Mac motioned for him to step close to her. "I couldn't tell you yesterday, with all the others in the room. They mustn't know," she went on, sobering, "Because Harm's life might be in danger if anyone found out. That's why we decided to limit the circle of people who know."  
  
"We?" Fred's face was one huge question-mark.  
  
"Yep," Mac replied happily. "Right, Harm?" She made an obvious show of turning her head into Harm's direction, making Fred immediately follow her glance.  
  
Harm reveled in the expression on Fred's face as he slowly winked his consent.  
  
"Sir!"  
  
['This is just like you, Fred,'] Harm thought with a virtual grin, ['Let something unexpected happen and you'll immediately become formal.']  
  
"He's still Harm to you, Fred," Mac admonished him gently.  
  
"Uhm, yes." Fred still tried to gather his thoughts. "Harm, do you hear me?"  
  
['Loud and clear, boy.'] He winked.  
  
"Wow. Mac," Fred turned to her, suddenly understanding, "Harm found out about the connection, didn't he?"  
  
"Yes, he did. You, me and the admiral are the only ones who know. And I'll tell Bud later on, because I have an idea where to look for further evidence. We'll need him there."  
  
"Just what do you have in mind?" Fred's voice was suddenly wary.  
  
['Yeah, I'd like to hear that myself,'] Harm doubled him, not liking the excited expression on his Marine's face.  
  
"Break into Minton Greenwood." She grinned, preparing for the impact.  
  
Harm's heart monitor instantly made itself known. ['Oh, no, you won't, lady!'] he threatened her, cursing the fact that she could so easily ignore him.  
  
"Mac, are you crazy?" Fred blurted out, only to immediately excuse himself. "I mean... I'm sorry, ma'am... but... well... uhm... permission to speak freely, ma'am?"  
  
Laughing, Mac waved consent.  
  
"That's suicide! And what do you hope to find?"  
  
"Oh, that's quite simple, Fred," she explained. "If you had illegally acquired documents in your possession, wouldn't you hide them in a safe place, like another firm that no one suspects to be connected with the case, where no one would possibly look for them, where they would just be one more folder among others?"  
  
He nodded. Harm, too, was beginning to understand.  
  
"As Baxter and Connelly is situated somewhere down in South Carolina, that leaves Minton Greenwood as the only logical place. There's no other firm in the consortium, and they won't keep the North Star carbon copies or whatever Cramer gave them at Branwick Industries."  
  
"I see your point," Fred acknowledged thoughtfully. Harm just winked, although he was reluctant to let her do it. "What's your plan?" Fred finally asked, defeated.  
  
"We'll have you go on a tourist tour through the firm, spying on the security facilities. Bud will instruct you what to look for. Then we'll go there at night, have Bud somehow take out the surveillance system, sneak in, get the copies and sneak out again."  
  
Fred let out a skeptical laugh. "You make it sound easy!"  
  
"Trust me, it will work. Harm and I even stole a MIG once."  
  
"You did what?" Fred's jaw dropped open. He turned to Harm. "She's kidding, right?"  
  
Harm let his eyes stay open and curled the corners of his mouth instead, making Fred gasp.  
  
The young lieutenant let his stare wander from one to the other and back, eyes open wide. "Madonna mia, mi pentirò di tutto questo..." he murmured. [Madonna mia, I'm going to regret all this...]  
  
['Live and learn, Lieutenant,'] Harm only thought.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	10. Chapter Ten

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Ten Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part nine:  
  
"We'll have you go on a tourist tour through the firm, spying on the security facilities. Bud will instruct you what to look for. Then we'll go there at night, have Bud somehow take out the surveillance system, sneak in, get the copies and sneak out again."  
  
Fred let out a skeptical laugh. "You make it sound easy!"  
  
"Trust me, it will work. Harm and I even stole a MIG once."  
  
"You did what?" Fred's jaw dropped open. He turned to Harm. "She's kidding, right?"  
  
Harm let his eyes stay open and curled the corners of his mouth instead, making Fred gasp.  
  
The young lieutenant let his stare wander from one to the other and back, eyes open wide. "Madonna mia, mi pentirò di tutto questo..." he murmured. [Madonna mia, I'm going to regret all this...]  
  
['Live and learn, Lieutenant,'] Harm only thought.  
  
  
  
Part Ten:  
  
Sat, Feb. 27th 2321 ZULU Rabb residence Arlington, VA  
  
  
  
"So, is everybody here now?" Mac swept a quick surveying glance across the room before taking her seat at the dinner table. Besides her, Sturgis, Fred, Bud, Harriet and Claire were present. She and Harm had decided two days ago that they better include Sturgis and the two ladies. Having to keep secrets from them might cause more tension and, subsequently, unwanted attention than telling them what was going on and transforming the inner JAG family into some sort of a conspiratorial cell. So at least they would be able to act naturally among their friends.  
  
Mac had initially felt some reluctance to further enlarge the circle of those familiar with the case - and Harm's state of health - but eventually he had succeeded in convincing her that this might be the right thing to do. Especially since Harm was making considerable progress regaining his motor abilities. Hiding them became increasingly difficult, and he was all the more glad that, now that his friends knew, he had to play the coma- patient only with the doctors. And that was hard enough since Zanelli had frowningly remarked that, according to Harm's encephalogram, he should be awake and had begun doing sensitivity tests that were hard to endure.  
  
They both felt a little guilty that they hadn't told Sergei yet, but he wasn't involved in the case and could only come to visit once or twice a week, due to his classes. So they hadn't yet seen the need to pass on the information. The less he knew the safer he was.  
  
Yet, even with all the anxiety that the situation brought upon, Mac was feeling more grateful to heaven with each passing day. Not only did she enjoy being a mother to a degree that she wouldn't have thought possible even in her dreams, but each day when she came to visit Harm, he would surprise her with some newly acquired ability. Thursday it had been his eyes following her movements. Friday he had been able to slightly return her squeeze of his hand. And today... today had been a miracle. While Mac had been able to see the strain on his face as he struggled to move, Harm had - low and indistinctly but yet understandably - called her by her name. Mac knew Harm was pushing himself tremendously, wearying himself more than he should. But from the gleam in his eyes when he saw her reaction to his efforts, she could tell that this seemed to be all the encouragement he needed. 'If he ever goes back to his normal self, I know that we'll make it through whatever might possibly come up in our lives,' she thought, her heart swelling with love and devotion for her brave man.  
  
"Crew assembled in full and reporting as ordered, ma'am," Sturgis observed, smirking, shaking Mac from her musings. As her face lit up with an embarrassed smile, Sturgis looked at her intently. "How's Harm today?"  
  
"He's fine, thank you, Sturgis." Mac looked around and met with shy but curious glances. Again she smiled. "Come on, all of you, you're our friends. You can ask for details. I won't bite." Earning herself a few sheepish laughs, she went on quietly, studying her hands: "Today he said my name."  
  
"Mac, that's wonderful news," Claire said warmly, laying her hand on her friend's arm.  
  
"Yeah..." She acknowledged softly, her mind wandering far away. "Today it's been one year exactly," she eventually said very low, the hint of a smile still gracing her features. "Letting me hear his voice was the most beautiful anniversary gift he could possibly have given me."  
  
For a moment everybody kept quiet, letting the colonel take the time she needed. Then Mac drew a deep breath, chuckling slightly. "Come on, guys, we've got work to do. I would like to..."  
  
"Excuse me, ma'am," Fred cut in, not daring to drop formalities, now that the temporary JAG and other superiors were present, "But I'd like to show you something first."  
  
Mac looked at the young man, slightly surprised. "What would that be, Lieutenant?"  
  
"Well," Fred's face showed the hint of a smile, "I had a little conversation with Clayton Webb yesterday." Everybody looked at him in clear surprise.  
  
"I thought he was in Afghanistan, chasing Al Qaeda," Harriet stated, frowning.  
  
"Oh, he is, ma'am," Fred replied, "I'm not sure if I want to know just how he gets all the information but he seems to know about our plan. And he told me to go and pick something up from one of his colleagues. Said it might help and tells me to say hello to all of you." With a smile, Fred took a slip of paper out of his pocket and made it slide in Mac's direction on the polished surface of the table. She picked it up, looked at it, stared and then grinned, slowly shaking her head.  
  
"What is it, ma'am?" Bud tried to catch a glimpse of what was written on the paper.  
  
"Believe it or not, Clay has just provided us with a means to use whatever we get our hands on at Minton as a legal exhibit of evidence in court."  
  
Open-mouthed stares were the only answers to her statement. Sturgis was the first to find his voice. "How?"  
  
"Official search warrant, kept confidential."  
  
"Wow."  
  
"I always wondered why I couldn't bring myself to completely hate this man," Bud mused, shaking his head. "But I guess I underdstand why now. First he gets Sergei out of Chechnya, then he pulls a few strings so the colonel and the commander can stay at JAG as a married couple and now this..."  
  
"Harm and I will be indebted to him for the rest of our lives," Mac remarked, chuckling. "Wait until I tell him. I'm sure his heart monitor will tell me about his reactions before he's even able to wink once..."  
  
"What did you just say?" came a voice from the direction of the door, clearly aghast.  
  
In shock, the whole group's heads snapped to where the voice had come from. Sergei was standing in the doorframe, eyes open wide, his hand still on the door handle.  
  
"Sergei..." Mac said, her voice suddenly toneless. "How long have you been standing there?"  
  
Anger began to show on the young Russian's face. "Long enough to understand that you've been hiding my brother's condition from me!" he spat.  
  
"Sergei..." Mac didn't know what to say.  
  
"I thought we were a family!" Sergei raged on.  
  
"But we are..." Mac again tried to cut in.  
  
"The hell we are!"  
  
"Stand down, Zhukov!" Sturgis had risen, and his loud, decided, but calm voice immediately made the young man stop and stare at his brother's friend who was obviously trying to contain his own anger. "Now that you found out, your life might be in danger. We wanted to spare you from this. I'm well aware that you have a right to know about your brother but it was Harm himself who didn't want you to be involved in this. He thinks it's too dangerous."  
  
Sergei had visibly paled. Now he nervously cleared his throat. "Does this..." he again cleared his throat, "Does this necessarily apply to all people who found out about... well, whatever it is you didn't tell me?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Mac asked sharply. "Is there anyone with you?"  
  
"Yeah..." came a shy voice from outside as a small figure stepped into the room. "Hello Mac."  
  
"Janni!" Mac didn't know if to be glad or shocked. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Jeannine swallowed and tried a somewhat guilty smile. "Well, I wanted to surprise you. I originally planned to come over for spring break but when I went to talk to Captain Wells, he insisted that I go immediately and offer my assistance to you and Harm. He knows you're kind of an extended family to me and he's still holding you two in the highest esteem ever since your performance with the Gonzalez case and the Carnegie Hall concert. So I called Sergei and he agreed to let me stay with him so I won't be bothering you. I hope you're not upset..." Jeannine let her voice trail off, unsure what to say, her eyes never leaving Mac's glance.  
  
"Come in and close the door first," Mac said, rising to hug her friend. "I'm really glad to see you, both of you, but... well, I'd rather you hadn't heard what you did." She sighed, frowning. Just then, low crying could be heard from Trisha's room upstairs. Mac smiled. "Actually, I might be in need of a baby sitter. Why don't you two sit down with the others while I get my little one, and we'll fill you in on the situation. There's no need to hide anything from you now. But..." she earnestly looked at the young couple, "Sergei has been in the military and you will be, Janni. So you know what to do when I now order you to keep whatever we tell you absolutely confidential. This is vital. Do you understand me? Sergeant Zhukov? Cadet Stiller?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am!" came the automatic reply, both actually, subconsciously, snapping to attention before Mac. Suppressed chuckles could be heard from the table. Sergei and Jeannine took off their coats and went over to the others while Mac rushed upstairs to get Trisha. She had previously pumped a little milk so she could feed her daughter in company without embarrassing anyone. Claire had already gotten up and warmed it for her in the microwave. Meanwhile, Bud and Fred enlightened Sergei about his brother's state of health. To say that Sergei was glad at hearing the news, didn't quite cover it. He was overwhelmed and he was thankful that Jeannine was by his side, gently rubbing his back as he fought to swallow his tears of relief. His brother hadn't left him.  
  
"So this is my namesake?" Jeannine inquired, beaming, as Mac returned with the baby in her arms.  
  
"Yes. Look, Trisha," Mac gently addressed her daughter, "This is Jeannine, the brave girl who gave you your beautiful middle name."  
  
The little girl was obviously more interested in the warm bottle that Claire was now handing to Mac who gently guided the rubber nipple into her daughter's mouth. Trisha instantly began to suck greedily.  
  
"She definitely has your stomach, Colonel," Sturgis observed with a smirk.  
  
Mac just raised both her eyebrows, pointedly cleared her throat and mockingly glared at everyone. "Back to work, now, people. That's an order. Clear? Fine. So, Fred, what did you find out on the tour?"  
  
"Well, ma'am, security facilities at Minton Greenwood aren't as tough as I would have expected. But then, they're a waste disposal company. Any additional security measures would cause curiosity. So I guess they're just counting on it to be too farfetched for anyone to go looking for classified military files in their offices. They do have simple surveillance cameras all around the area. From what I gathered, they are being monitored by two guards in an office near the main entrance. Our guide proudly pointed out that every technical facility inside Minton Greenwood works digitally, linked to an Intranet to which only bearers of MG security passes have access. So if we could somehow gain access to the Intranet, we should be able to knock out the cameras and fool the surveillance monitors with a piece of tape that we keep showing in continuous repetition. Like Keanu Reeves did in 'Speed'. They have a simple acoustic alarm, that should be accessible through the Intranet, too, if what the guide said about MG's systems is correct."  
  
"Bud," Mac turned to her friend, "Do you think you can take out those systems?"  
  
Bud frowned. "Once I have access to the Intranet, it shouldn't be a major problem. But how do I get clearance?"  
  
"Any suggestions?" Mac expectantly looked at Fred.  
  
The young Italian, with a smug smile on his face, reached into his pocket again and tossed a small plastic card in Mac's direction. "This might help, ma'am."  
  
Setting down the bottle, Mac picked up the card and looked at it, curious. Her eyebrows went up a notch and she whistled. "This is an MG security pass, owned by one Jeremy Cullum. How did you come by that, Lieutenant, or, let me rephrase, where does one - by pure chance - find an MG security pass?" Her mocking glare actually made Fred shift uneasily on his chair.  
  
"Well, I happened to overhear an employee talking to another that he was just about to finish his last working day yesterday, before going on holiday for two weeks. I heard him being called Cullum by his colleague and I saw him enter the locker rooms to change out of his working clothes. Then I, well, managed to get lost on the tour, entered the room myself, found Cullum's locker, picked the lock, yes, ma'am, I did learn that from your husband, found... okay, kind of found the security pass, closed the locker again and went out to be retrieved by my group. 'Yoo know, I'mma stupidda Italian tourrista who getta losta fromma groupa.'" He grinned. "You were right, ma'am, those kinds of things are actually quite easy."  
  
Mac, along with the others, couldn't hold back her chuckles at Fred's tale. She could just picture him playing an overseas tourist with no clue of anything that was going on around him. "Good work, Fred," she replied, shifting Trisha to her shoulder and gently patting her on the back. Noticing that the baby's eyelids were heavy with sleep, she then bedded her daughter in her arms, rocking her slightly. "So who's gonna go in, when and how?"  
  
Fred frowned. "That's... uhm... a bit of a problem. We have to do it at night, preferably between 0200 and 0330. That's the period with less people showing up. But there's still a lot going on inside MG, even at that time. So we wouldn't get past the guards at the gate. Our only option seems to be to go in by crossing the fence at the far end and then entering the building by... well... using a sewer pipe as a tunnel, ma'am. And here's the problem. The pipe in question is really, really small. I managed to check it out before leaving the grounds. Getting lost again, you know... None of us men could make it. You are out of the question, ma'am - no offence - but you've just given birth and are clearly not in shape for a rather fatiguing crawl. Lt. Sims has a baby, too, and I don't know how much this would wear her out. And Claire just yesterday had a close encounter with a hospital bed that rolled over her foot..."  
  
"So that's why you're limping," Harriet stated compassionately. "Is anything broken?"  
  
"Luckily no, but it hurts all the same, and I wouldn't be up to the task right now," Claire explained, looking sorry that she couldn't help out.  
  
"What about me?" All eyes turned to Jeannine. "I'm by far the smallest of us all, I'm in good shape and I have a little military training."  
  
"That could work, Colonel," Fred agreed thoughtfully.  
  
"Janni, are you sure you want to do this?" Mac was reluctant to involve her friend in this rather audacious operation. "You'd be on your own in there, you know."  
  
Jeannine swallowed. "I know. But I also know that I might be the only hope for the admiral. So why don't you just tell me what I have to do?"  
  
Exchanging a quick nod with Mac, Sturgis leaned forward, resting his weight on his elbows. "All right, Cadet Stiller," he said quietly. "We appreciate your help. Here's the plan. Lt. Roberts will park his minivan at the back of the firm grounds around 0000, getting himself busy with the computer network and establishing a visual and an audio-link with the camera-gear that you'll be wearing. By 0200 he will have taken out the alarm and the cameras and we'll help you over the fence. Lt. Prumetti will guide you to the entrance of the sewer system by com-link. You'll enter the building and will be directed all the way to the offices. Or to any other place that might be worth searching. Make sure your camera lens always catches exactly what you see so we can have a look at the files, too, and tell you what to take out. Once you're done we'll guide you back to the sewer pipe and you'll come back the same way you went in."  
  
"And if I get caught?"  
  
"If that should happen," Mac declared, "I'll be there, in full uniform, official search warrant in hand, and make them release you while the others try to rush to the hospital and get Harm and Trisha away to someplace safe." She frowned. "And then we're going to play hide and seek with Cramer, I guess. All of us."  
  
"So I take it I'd better not get caught?" Jeannine's smile was a little tight.  
  
"Yup."  
  
Tense silence reigned in the room as everybody tried not to imagine what life would be like being chased by Cramer's accomplices. A low whimper from Trisha finally eased the tension.  
  
"I guess I should put her back to bed," Mac said, tenderly watching her little girl. She would do anything to protect her against the evil of the world, she silently vowed. She would go through hell and back if it would keep her safe.  
  
"And we should get going," Sturgis concluded, receiving nods from everyone. "So I'll meet you at the rear of Minton Greenwood tomorrow night at 0200 sharp. Harriet, Claire, I'd rather you stay with the children if you don't mind." The young women nodded. "Sergei, I think you should come along. We might need your knowledge about aeronautics since the commander is out of reach."  
  
"I'll be there, sir."  
  
"I bet you will," Sturgis observed, smiling, casting a quick glance at Jeannine who blushed slightly.  
  
"Drop Trisha off at our house whenever you want, ma'am," Harriet addressed Mac. "How about the four of us," she indicated herself, Mac, Claire and Jeannine, "Have a little girls talk at, say, 2100, to remember our last mission?"  
  
"I'd like that, Harriet." Mac grinned as she saw the men wince slightly.  
  
Jeannine was the last to take leave. Mac hugged her and then earnestly looked at her. "Are you sure you don't want to stay here?"  
  
Again, Jeannine blushed. "Yeah, I guess I am. I'm sure Sergei and I are both responsible enough not to rush things and..." she hesitated, drawing a deep breath, "You always knew you could trust Harm, didn't you?"  
  
"Yeah, I did."  
  
"Well, I... I don't really understand why but somehow I feel it's just the same for me with his brother." Jeannine's smile begged for understanding.  
  
"Must be a Rabb thing," Mac observed warmly, knowing what Jeannine was referring to.  
  
Sergei had been walking down the path that led to the street. Now he turned and waited for his girlfriend to join him. "You coming, Yanina Andreyevna?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Sure," Jeannine called back, casting him a quick, warm glance. Turning to Mac, Jeannine's expression became a little embarrassed. "Yeah. A Rabb thing. Bye, Mac, see you tomorrow night."  
  
"Paká, Yanina," Mac waved her off with a grin. "Spakoynoy nochy." [Bye, Jeannine, good night.]  
  
'What is it with those Rabbs?' Mac thought, as she watched Jeannine and Sergei walk down the road to Sergei's old Volkswagen Beetle, holding hands and now and then glancing at each other as if they couldn't really believe yet that the other was actually there.  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	11. Chapter Eleven

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Eleven Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part ten:  
  
Sergei had been walking down the path that led to the street. Now he turned and waited for his girlfriend to join him. "You coming, Yanina Andreyevna?" he asked with a smile.  
  
"Sure," Jeannine called back, casting him a quick, warm glance. Turning to Mac, Jeannine's expression became a little embarrassed. "Yeah. A Rabb thing. Bye, Mac, see you tomorrow night."  
  
"Paká, Yanina," Mac waved her off with a grin. "Spakoynoy nochy." [Bye, Jeannine, good night.]  
  
'What is it with those Rabbs?' Mac thought, as she watched Jeannine and Sergei walk down the road to Sergei's old Volkswagen Beetle, holding hands and now and then glancing at each other as if they couldn't really believe yet that the other was actually there.  
  
  
  
Part Eleven:  
  
Sun, Feb. 28th 2012 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Preev'yet, moy brutt," Sergei said tentatively as he peeped into Harm's room. [Hello, my brother.]  
  
The only response was the eerie beeping of the heart monitor. Shyly, Sergei approached his brother's bed, followed by Jeannine and Mac.  
  
"Hello, my brother," Sergei tried again, his voice doubtful, only to gasp as Harm's head on the pillow slowly turned in his direction.  
  
"Hi," Harm whispered back, the corners of his mouth curling upwards. ['Good to see you, kid! And I see you brought someone, now that's a nice surprise.']  
  
"Hey," Sergei grinned widely, obviously relieved. "I would be lying if I said that you're looking good, old man, but I'm really glad to see you on the way back to normal."  
  
['Old man? Wait till I get back to you for this, kid!'] Harm's grin intensified slightly. "Need to... teach you... respect," he murmured.  
  
Sergei let out a laugh and then took Jeannine's hand and gently pulled her to his side. "Here's someone who wants to see you. Not that I understand why, but she insisted."  
  
Jeannine smiled, quickly waving her hand to Harm. "It's good to see you, sir."  
  
['We've been past that, haven't we, Cadet Stiller?'] Harm, to his own surprise, managed a slight frown. "Harm... not 'sir'," he managed to get out.  
  
"Sorry. Good to see you, Harm," Jeannine repeated with a grin, stressing the 'Harm'.  
  
"You, too... Kiss... my wife?" Harm whispered, his glance wandering to where Mac stood.  
  
Smiling, Mac approached him and bent down to comply. A quick flush of joy swept over her as she felt his lips respond slightly to hers. 'Well, he can talk. I shouldn't be surprised that he tries to use his lips in other ways, too,' Mac told herself as she reluctantly drew back, her expression serene.  
  
"Harm," she addressed him, "I was on the phone with your mother this morning. I just told her that everything was all right and that she would receive a registered letter by tomorrow in which I'd lay out the particulars. And that she shouldn't come and visit yet. Trish didn't ask any questions. I guess she understands that there's more to it. You sure have a great mom."  
  
"We, Mac... we do," he gently reminded her. "She's... your mom, too."  
  
"Yeah, I know," Mac replied with a smile. "And if you're wondering where your little girl is - I left her with Harriet earlier. But your daughter told me that she loves you very much, squid. And that I'm to kiss you for her."  
  
['Then what are you waiting for, jarhead?'] Harm's mouth again curled into a smile. "Do it," he whispered.  
  
Again Mac bent down, momentarily losing herself to the feeling of his lips softly grazing hers in an attempt to return her caresses. 'You have no idea how much I missed that,' she inwardly sighed.  
  
Just then, the door opened and a nurse stepped into the room, carrying Harm's eye drops. Harm had fine-tuned his ears for any sounds evoked by the door in order to keep his progress secret. Mac could feel his features relax immediately as she heard the nurse approach. When she pulled back she saw that Harm's glance had turned void, always fixated on the white wall opposite his bed.  
  
The nurse cast Mac, Sergei and Jeannine quick compassionate smiles, administered Harm his medicine and left. Immediately Harm's head turned to face his family. "Tell me... I'm good... at this," he murmured, his eyes shining with amusement.  
  
"Yeah, great," Mac stated dryly, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "So, Mr. Camouflage, don't let your ego get inflated. It's big enough already. Understood?"  
  
Again Harm's brow furrowed slightly. "Aye, ma'am," he whispered, frowning even more upon hearing Sergei and Jeannine snicker at their banter. However, the smile quickly returned to his face.  
  
"Mac..."  
  
"What is it, Harm?"  
  
"Listen... help me?"  
  
Mac's expression immediately turned serious. "Any problems?"  
  
"No..." He tried to look reassuring. "Move closer."  
  
"Okay..." she stepped to his side, waiting.  
  
"Hold out... your hand."  
  
Mac silently did so, wondering what her husband was up to.  
  
['Okay, Hammer, you did this before. Now do it again. On three. One, two, three...'] Harm mentally clenched his teeth and focused on his right arm. At first, nothing happened. Mac witnessed the struggle that was going on inside him and decided she'd give him a little more time to accomplish whatever he intended to.  
  
['Come on, Hammer, you can do it!'] Harm kept shouting silently at himself until he finally won the battle. Slowly, he began to lift his right arm from the comforter until he had reached Mac's outstretched hand. Quickly gripping her fingers, Harm let his arm relax, making Mac feel the weight of it as she clung to his hand.  
  
"Congratulations, sailor," she said softly, while Sergei and Jeannine just watched, beaming at him.  
  
"Mac..."  
  
Confused, she frowned, looking at him sharply. "What's up?"  
  
"Help me?"  
  
"Sure, but I thought... so there's more you want to try?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"Harm, don't push it, please. You've done more than enough for one day already," she pleaded, knowing well he wouldn't give in.  
  
"Please..."  
  
"Okay." She sighed. "What am I supposed to do?"  
  
"Just... hold on... tight."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"Haven't... tried this yet," he whispered. "Needed you... for... practicing."  
  
Smiling, Mac squeezed his hand. "I'm sure you'll do fine. I'll help you with the exercise. Is that what you wanted me to do?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Then go ahead, squid. Round one is open."  
  
Harm smiled and briefly closed his eyes to gather his concentration. Then all of a sudden Mac felt his grip tighten considerably and she felt that he was tugging at her arm, obviously trying to sit up. Excited, she, too, tightened her grip so that he could encounter the firm hold he needed. The four people in the room held their breaths as Harm slowly pulled himself up until he was sitting in bed, clinging to Mac's hand, resting his forehead against her wrist, panting with exhaustion.  
  
Beaming radiantly, Mac immediately put an arm around his shoulders to prevent him from falling backwards onto the pillow again. Then she released his hand and hugged him tightly. "Bravo Zulu, Commander," she whispered into the curve of his neck.  
  
"Lie... down... please..." he panted tonelessly. Mac helped him back into a horizontal position.  
  
"Okay, flyboy, that's it for today. No more exercises. That's an order."  
  
He grinned briefly. "Aye, ma'am." ['I got my favorite I-love-you smile from you. That's always worth the effort. But I know when to stop, Mac.']  
  
Mac sat down on his bed and made Sergei and Jeannine pull up chairs for themselves. "I'm sure you want to be told about our next proceedings, right?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"So, here's your info: At 0200 we meet at Minton Greenwood. Clay has provided Fred with an official search warrant. We'll still keep our operation secret, but we're covered so we can use whatever we come up with as legal exhibits in court. Our only way in is through the sewer system. So Jeannine, being the smallest, has volunteered to go in in camera gear. Bud will by then have fooled security from his van which we turn into our ops center. We'll follow Janni's movement and tell her what to take with her and how to get out again."  
  
Harm's eyebrows moved in a failed attempt to go up. ['You're getting pretty CIA-ish here, Mac. This should be fun. Couldn't you have done this another time, when I could have been part of the whole thing? You always get all the fun!']  
  
"Without me..." he whispered, frowning.  
  
Mac grinned. "Is that a pout that I'm seeing there, Commander?"  
  
['Wipe that smirk off your face, jarhead!'] Harm couldn't help smiling.  
  
"You will find that things actually work without you, big brother," Sergei cut in, suppressed laughter ringing in his voice.  
  
['Whom did he get the impertinence from?'] Harm asked himself, only to feel embarrassment at the answer that could be expected. ['Okay. I guess I don't want to know. Thanks, Dad. Better change the subject.'] "And how... are you... Janni?" he asked instead, his gaze moving on to Jeannine.  
  
Knowing chuckles could be heard, making him smile again.  
  
"Thank you, I'm fine," Jeannine began. "Captain Wells told me to say hello as soon as you'd be back from Never-never-land. And the marching band is actually..."  
  
Mac watched Harm as he was listening to Jeannine's tales. 'How do you do that?' she silently asked him. 'I know no one's invincible. But seeing you always struggling to get back on track, no matter what happens, makes me wonder if you're the exception to the rule. Actually, I kind of like the idea.'  
  
  
  
Sun, Feb. 28th 2204 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
As Mac, Sergei and Jeannine exited the building, they felt instantly as if they were being run over by a herd of buffaloes. Camera lights were flashing in their eyes, microphones were being pushed in front of their faces and from all sides overzealous reporters were assaulting them.  
  
"Colonel Mackenzie! Is it true that your husband's in a coma?"  
  
"Colonel, can you confirm that your husband was shot because of Doctor Walden's murder?"  
  
"Was it Daniel Walden who shot the commander?"  
  
"Is it true that your husband will be irreversibly paralyzed?"  
  
"Did Admiral Chegwidden order the shooting of your husband because the commander found evidence of his guilt?"  
  
"Did you lose your baby, Colonel?"  
  
'Here goes our privacy,' Mac inwardly sighed, resigned. Actually, she had been surprised that they had succeeded in keeping the events quiet for such a long time. At the last two questions, her anger got the better of her. Fuming, she stopped and glared into the waiting cameras.  
  
"I'll say this only once. I guess I'm on air right now so I can do it with a nationwide public to witness. First, to satisfy your curiosity, yes, my husband's in a coma. No, Admiral Chegwidden didn't have anything to do with my husband being shot, it was a simple street robbery. No, I didn't lose my child. Why would I? Normally this is called giving birth. And finally: get out of my and my family's life. I won't answer any more questions, I won't have you take any pictures, as won't the commander's brother or his friends. Or the hospital. End of conversation."  
  
With this said, she exercised a swift turn and strode over to her car, Sergei and Jeannine quickly running to Sergei's beetle. Mac got into her Corvette, ignited the motor and left the hospital's parking lot, letting out a deep breath of relief.  
  
A few blocks down the road, though, she noticed that she was being followed by several TV team wagons. Panic began to rise inside her. If those journalists were going to install themselves in front of their house, how was she supposed to go over to Minton Greenwood tonight without causing attention? She absolutely needed to escape them. 'I only hope Sergei and Jeannine are aware of the danger,' she thought uneasily.  
  
As the team wagons were closing in on her, Mac made a quick decision. All she needed was at the Roberts' anyway. So she wouldn't lead the reporters over to Arlington. Instead, she would take them on a little trip all across town and back. A grin slowly spread on Mac's features. A nasty grin.  
  
She would enjoy herself.  
  
Mac approached the next crossing at full speed, just as the traffic lights were switching to what might be called 'cherry green'. Fortunately the streets weren't overly crowded as it was Sunday. Without notice, Mac turned right with screeching tires and stepped heavily on the gas as soon as she had completed the turn. The camera vans had slight difficulties following her. Swaying considerably, they had to slow down to head in the new direction, only to try and take up the chase immediately after.  
  
'Okay, so that was just for warm up,' Mac concluded grimly, speeding on. Again completely without warning, she turned left after half a mile, vanishing into a small side street of a cozy white-wooden-houses neighborhood. Squealing, the camera vans followed. Mac decided to vary her tactics a little. She turned right, then left, then left, then right again, then left... always trying not to be predictable, glad that while the vans were following her in a driving style like this, no cameraman on earth could capture her driving.  
  
Then suddenly a way of salvation was in sight. She became aware of a small dead-end street that seemed more like a private driveway. As she had just entered the street she was currently driving along, the vans hadn't arrived yet. Quickly she pulled into the small street, shut down her headlights and hoped.  
  
Half a minute later, three vans sped by her six at about sixty miles an hour. Once they were far enough, Mac cautiously pulled back, turned and left the neighborhood. 'I know my Bond.' She grinned to herself, longing to tell Harm.  
  
She decided to go over to the Roberts' directly. Taking a few additional deviations, just in case anyone spotted her, she arrived at Bud and Harriet's house, soaked and trembling, but feeling quite content about having fooled the media... once again.  
  
  
  
Mon, March 1st 0421 ZULU Cmdr. Turner's apartment Georgetown, D.C.  
  
  
  
Sergei and Jeannine had thought it wise not to go home. They had made sure that all the vans had in fact followed Mac's Corvette and then headed on to Sturgis'. He had called Mac earlier, having told her that he had the camera gear Jeannine was supposed to wear. So why not drop by and try it on?  
  
Sturgis had been relieved when Sergei had told him that they were sure no one had followed them. As Jeannine told him what had happened at the hospital Sturgis was feeling more than a little concerned about Mac's state of mind. But a quick call from her, telling him that she had safely arrived at the Roberts', made him relax. Mac was a professional. She could handle things like these. And Sergei... 'Well, he's Harm's brother,' Sturgis reminded himself, not wanting to admit that it would probably be just this trait of his character that would get Sergei into serious trouble some day. But not now, Sturgis decided. They had enough problems to deal with.  
  
Sturgis had retreated into the kitchen to fix a little dinner while Sergei was adjusting Jeannine's cam gear to a tight fit.  
  
"Are you comfortable, Jan?"  
  
She smiled at him. "As good as it gets, Sergeant."  
  
"Are you sure you know how to use it? I can always..." Sergei's forehead was one big concerned frown.  
  
Jeannine let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. Mac had told her of Harm's overprotective nature. 'I think I know what she means.' "I know everything I need to know. It's okay, Sergei," she said gently.  
  
He smiled, blushing slightly. "You know, I'm a little worried about what you're gonna do. I'd rather you wouldn't."  
  
"Hey, I'll be okay." Jeannine glanced up to his kind eyes. "Thank you for caring."  
  
"You know, it's just..." Sergei hesitated, collecting his courage. He swallowed. "Ya looblyóo, Yanina," he whispered. [I love you, Yanina.]  
  
Jeannine didn't know any Russian except the few words that Mac had already taught her. But she was a musician. And she loved Russian opera, especially Evgeny Onyegin by Tchaikovsky. Knowing the score by heart, she had understood exactly what Sergei had just told her. Feeling her pulse accelerate to double speed, she reached up and softly kissed him on the lips.  
  
"Ya tulka looblyóo, Sergei." [I love you, too, Sergei.] "Don't worry. I'll be safe."  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	12. Chapter Twelve

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Twelve  
  
Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part eleven:  
  
Jeannine let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. Mac had told her of Harm's overprotective nature. 'I think I know what she means.' "I know everything I need to know. It's okay, Sergei," she said gently.  
  
He smiled, blushing slightly. "You know, I'm a little worried about what you're gonna do. I'd rather you wouldn't."  
  
"Hey, I'll be okay." Jeannine glanced up to his kind eyes. "Thank you for caring."  
  
"You know, it's just..." Sergei hesitated, collecting his courage. He swallowed. "Ya looblyóo, Yanina," he whispered. [I love you, Yanina.]  
  
Jeannine didn't know any Russian except the few words that Mac had already taught her. But she was a musician. And she loved Russian opera, especially Evgeny Onyegin by Tchaikovsky. Knowing the score by heart, she had understood exactly what Sergei had just told her. Feeling her pulse accelerate to double speed, she reached up and softly kissed him on the lips.  
  
"Ya tulka looblyóo, Sergei." [I love you, too, Sergei.] "Don't worry. I'll be safe."  
  
  
  
Part Twelve:  
  
Mon, March 1st 0649 ZULU Minton Greenwood Inc. 50 miles SE of D.C., VA  
  
  
  
"There they are," Sturgis said in a low voice as he indicated the Roberts's van that stood half-hidden behind a row of bushes, approximately ten yards away from the fence that marked the rear border of MG's grounds. He, Sergei and Jeannine, all dressed in dark sweats that Sturgis had been able to provide them with, neared their 'ops central', cautiously sticking to the shadows. Sturgis softly knocked three times at the van's sliding door. Mac almost instantly opened it, quickly granted them access and quietly closed the door as soon as they were cramped inside.  
  
Sturgis let out a low whistle as his eyes adjusted to his surroundings. Bud, with Fred's help, had transformed the back of his car into a high tech observation room. Four computer monitors were showing different images, changing camera positions every five seconds. A fifth monitor with desktop and keyboard was Bud's operation desk. At the moment he was sitting in front of it, intently studying the readings on the screen, his fingers resting on the keys, while Fred was peeping over his shoulder. With his right index finger, the young Italian pointed to something and Bud immediately modified a few command lines in the C++ code. From a nearby loudspeaker the low humming of the building's air conditioning could be detected.  
  
"Thorough work, Bud," Sturgis commented, impressed.  
  
"Thank you, sir," Bud answered distractedly, his eyes never leaving his programming.  
  
Grinning, Sturgis exchanged a quick look with Mac. "Carry on, Lieutenant."  
  
"Aye, sir," Bud murmured.  
  
Turning to Fred, Sturgis was now anxious to learn about the state of op. "Did you manage to disarm the alarm, Fred?"  
  
"Yes, sir, Lt. Roberts needed about twenty minutes to do it. Clayton Webb's contact supplied us with hints where to hack in so it wasn't too hard. For now, the alarm is still operational, sir. We figured that we didn't want anyone to find out about us and have it fixed before we had our fun."  
  
"Good thinking, Lieutenant. When do you plan to switch it off?"  
  
"0155, sir, if everything goes smoothly. We prepared the video files that will be sent to the security monitors. Whereas..." Fred's face showed traces of a satisfied gloat, "What you see here, sir, are the actual security readings that normally go to the building's observation center. We thought they might come in handy."  
  
Sturgis' esteem of the two eager young men rose to no limits. They sure knew their informatics. "So, where do we see Cadet Stiller's recordings?"  
  
Fred indicated another monitor and loudspeaker that Sturgis hadn't noticed before. "Here's where we'll follow her every move." He cast Jeannine a quick winking smile. Turning back to Sturgis, he sobered. "Sir, I suggest we let Sergei do the guiding job..." he lowered his voice so only Sturgis could hear him, "I think that it would make the cadet feel more at ease."  
  
A smirk showed on Sturgis's face as he followed Fred's guarded glance and witnessed as Sergei was right now adjusting Jeannine's headset, his touch being of a much more tender nature than would have been necessary to do the job. The young girl was smiling, her eyes closed. "I guess, you're right," Sturgis consented. "Keep a keen eye on everything, though, Fred. Let me help Bud do the general stuff at his operation console over there. You stick with Mac and Sergei."  
  
"Aye, sir."  
  
By now Jeannine was ready. She stepped over to them and addressed Sturgis, her voice just a little shaky, while Sergei stood by silently, watching with a very Rabb-ish frown of concern marring his features. "I'm ready, sir. Where do I go?"  
  
Just then a low beep was heard and a colorful reading popped up on Bud's PC. "Security's disabled, sir," Bud reported, his gaze still glued to the monitors.  
  
Silently asking Mac for her consent and seeing her nod briefly, Sturgis turned to the girl in front of him. "Let's do it then, Cadet. I'll come out with you to help you over the fence. The entrance to the sewer system is about halfway between the spot where you'll access the grounds and the nearest wall of the building in front of you. Your gear working?"  
  
"Yes, sir." Jeannine switched it on. Immediately they could see on the monitor whatever the camera next to her right ear registered.  
  
"Say something, Janni," Mac demanded, "Low, please."  
  
"Do you copy?" Jeannine mumbled with a lopsided grin. Her amplified voice resounded clearly from the nearby loudspeakers.  
  
"Yeah, I guess we do." Mac's grin mirrored her friend's, immediately fading. "Thank you, Janni."  
  
"You're welcome," she answered simply.  
  
Mac quickly patted her on the arm. "Good luck."  
  
Sergei pulled his girlfriend into a quick hug. "Daaváai," he whispered with a soft encouraging smile. [Let's go.]  
  
Jeannine briefly smiled back. "I'll be fine." With that, she exited the van, followed closely by Sturgis. Those who remained in the car could see them cross the space until they arrived at the fence.  
  
Sturgis then made a hunchback and let Jeannine sit on his shoulders. He straightened so that she was just able to swing her legs over the top of the fence. With a swift movement she was in, walking in the direction Sturgis had pointed to. After a few yards she knelt down and on the monitor Sergei, Fred and Mac could see her open the drain and lower herself into the system. All went pitch black until Jeannine reached the ground and switched on her flashlight.  
  
Sergei was anxiously watching everything that was going on. 'If only I hadn't gotten so personal earlier,' he kept scolding himself silently. But then... he hadn't really expected her to understand him. For a moment he had been determined to tell her straight out that he was in love with her, but as he had prepared to let the words out, his courage had faltered, making him say them in Russian instead. The safety of his mother tongue would spare him additional concern for now, shutting the admission of their feelings out of the scheme for the moment.  
  
At least so he had thought. Sergei's knees had nearly buckled when he'd heard her answer. 'She loves me back!!!' everything inside him wanted to shout out loud. He wanted to lose himself in the feeling of finally having found someone who cared for him that way. And not just anybody, but the very girl his brother was deeply indebted to for saving his and Mac's lives. Jeannine Stiller sure was a remarkable young woman. And she was in love with him!  
  
Sergei was feeling all giddy and restless, in a definitely positive way. But this bond between them, on the other hand, made his concern for her safety grow considerably. The subsequent uneasiness added to the turmoil in his mind - not exactly a guaranty for a successful mission. Sergei tried to will his emotions back in check. He had to deny them for now, for Jeannine's sake. She depended on him.  
  
["Sergei?"] came her voice over the intercom.  
  
"I'm right here, Janutchka," he immediately responded, trying to sound reassuring. "Everything's gonna be all right."  
  
Mac hid a melancholy smile. This was so Harm.  
  
["Where do I go?"]  
  
Sergei watched as Mac pointed out the estimated route on a map of the building.  
  
"You just follow the tube you're standing in, Jan. After about... umm... 80 yards you should arrive at an intersection. You turn left and take the second maintenance exit that you come by at your left hand side," he explained to her.  
  
["Roger that."]  
  
Mac, Fred and Sergei saw the image beginning to waver as Jeannine walked in the direction Sergei had described. Eventually she reached the crossing and turned left, using the second maintenance exit to crawl upwards into a small maintenance cabinet inside the building in question.  
  
["I'm in."] Jeannine hissed into her microphone.  
  
"Dobry," Sergei murmured to himself, relieved. She had passed the initial hurdle. [Good.] "Okay. Listen, Jan, I want you to get out of the cabinet and turn to your right. Walk down the corridor, up to the second intersection, and then turn right again."  
  
["Okay."] Jeannine set off, her soft tennis shoes making no noise on the linoleum. She cautiously neared the first crossing, peeped down both directions of the intersecting corridors, quickly crossed it and went on. At the second intersection she again stopped, made sure she wasn't being seen and quickly turned around the corner.  
  
Sergei watched, holding his breath, his hands subconsciously clutching the armrests of his seat. Mac felt compassion for her young brother-in-law. She placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, earning herself a slightly embarrassed but grateful smile.  
  
On the monitor, Sergei could see that Janni approached a heavy two-wing door. He quickly checked his notes. "Okay, I know where you are, Jan," he explained. "Behind those doors is MG's administration. Do you have your gloves on?"  
  
["Yeah."]  
  
"So, the key code is... just a moment..." he gesticulated to Fred who said something to Bud who quickly thumbed through a small stack of papers and handed one to Fred who brought it over. Sergei passed the combination on to Jeannine who inserted Jeremy Cullum's security pass into the keypad at the side of the door and typed in the numbers. With a click and a low buzzing sound the doors slowly swung open.  
  
["Wow..."] Jeannine seemed to be awed by what she had just done.  
  
"What?" Sergei asked, smiling softly.  
  
["You know, Sergeant, I feel like... let's say... Emma Peel or someone in that league,"] she whispered back, obviously amused.  
  
"I'll take you up on the peeling part later, Jan," Sergei couldn't resist answering. A gasp was his answer.  
  
Mac tried hard to hide her grin. This banter reminded her of two certain other people. Talk about genes. But they all had to concentrate on the mission right now. So she hoped that her voice held at least a little scolding edge when she replied. "Could you save the small talk for later, too, Sergeant Zhukov?"  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Sergei's military reflexes kicked in instantly. Again Mac fought a losing battle with her grin.  
  
Jeannine had closed the doors behind herself and looked into just another long corridor. ["What next?"]  
  
"You walk right up to the end of the corridor you're in, Jan, and we'll give you the key code to the office at your right."  
  
Jeannine acknowledged and set off again. As Mac silently followed the pictures on the monitor next to Sergei, she at one point turned to him, curious. "Why does she call you by rank, Sergei?"  
  
Sergei chuckled. "I guess that's the result of a little word game that we came up with the other day on the phone. We were talking and one of us, I don't remember the particulars, used an alliteration we both immediately noticed. So we kind of talked on in ever new alliterations until she had to go and, instead of a goodbye, she said: 'See you, Sergeant Sergei, sir!' That stuck. She even called me Serg Serg once, but I objected to that one."  
  
"I bet you did," Mac replied, grinning, her eyes fixating the monitor. "Okay, guys," she then said a little louder in Sturgis and Bud's direction, "Code to room A 128, please."  
  
"Here you are, ma'am," Fred said as he instantly reached over and handed her another slip of paper that Sturgis had supplied. Sergei read the code to Jeannine who cautiously opened the door, swiftly stepped into the office and closed the door again. She let her flashlight graze the long rows of shelves, sighing.  
  
["Where do I start?"] She sounded just a little skeptical.  
  
"We'll have a problem if they keep the files in a totally different place but Mac says she thinks that bills tend to stick to bills. So look for accounting."  
  
Fred, Mac and Sergei watched as Jeannine slowly skimmed the rows. Seven minutes and twenty-two seconds, according to Mac, passed in silence. Then Jeannine spoke up, making them jump. ["Found it. Now?"]  
  
"Tell her to look under 'B' as in 'Branwick Industries'," Mac instructed Sergei who passed on the request.  
  
Mac followed Jeannine's research on the monitor. Suddenly she shouted: "Hold it!", trying to keep her voice guarded.  
  
"Mac seems to have spotted something in there, Jan," Sergei told his girlfriend.  
  
Jeannine looked at the folder she had just taken out. ["You're right! That's Branwick Industries. I presume I take it with me?"]  
  
"Yeah, but try to rearrange the folders so they won't immediately notice one's missing."  
  
["Done. What now?"]  
  
"Can you take a quick look at what's inside?" Mac had taken the radio now.  
  
They saw Jeannine open the folder and thumb through it. ["Bills mostly. And descriptions of disposal locations. As far as I see... without interruption from October 1997 until now, indicating one tour every two weeks."] Jeannine took the time to read over a few pages. ["Mac, I don't really know about such things but as far as I can tell, the sums listed wouldn't even cover the gasoline that would be necessary to ship the cargo to the locations mentioned."  
  
"Good work, Cadet," Mac acknowledged. "Now we need you to go back to the door..."  
  
She didn't get to finish her sentence. "Ma'am, guard approaching A 128!" Bud called out to her.  
  
'Damn,' Mac inwardly swore. Why couldn't things go smoothly just once? "Janni," she quickly hissed into the intercom, "Try to hide somewhere. We have a guard on an inspection tour approaching your room."  
  
Jeannine willed the panic down and quickly turned to look around. The spinning images on the monitor made the onlookers slightly nauseous. ["There's nowhere to hide!"]  
  
Sergei looked at Mac, silently imploring her to come up with a plan of salvation. Mac bit her lip, her conscience stirring. She should have gone in herself. Now, because of her being overly obedient to her doctors, the girl was in danger. 'Think, Mackenzie! There's got to be a way out of this mess.' Suddenly she had an idea.  
  
"Take the folder in your mouth and stuff the flashlight in your waistband."  
  
["Hmm hmm."]  
  
"Now climb up on top of one of the shelve rows, quick!"  
  
Knowing better than to question the decision of a combat-experienced Marine officer, Jeannine did as she was told. The camera's images didn't make any sense to the observers as she climbed past the rows. ["Hmmmm?"]  
  
"Lay down flat on top and don't make any noise!" was all Mac could tell her before the door was heard clicking again and the dim night lights came on. The next four minutes and twelve seconds were the longest Mac had ever counted. Over the loudspeaker Jeannine could barely be heard breathing as the guard did a routine sweep of the room, not noticing anything suspicious. As soon as he had left, Mac addressed her friend.  
  
"You all right, Janni?"  
  
["Yeah. What do I do?"]  
  
"Try to reach room C 226, Jan." Sergei had taken over again. "You go out, open the metal doors to your right, take the stairs that are located behind the third door to your left. The room is one floor above from where you are right now."  
  
Jeannine quickly found the door in question, tightly holding on to the folder. ["This is the office of General Manager Kristen Cramer-Bernstein,"] she told Sergei.  
  
"I know. Mac wants you to go in there and look for files that somehow relate to Branwick or North Star. We're sure they are somewhere in there if they are at MG at all. Mac doesn't think Maryann would trust anyone else with them than her sister. Start to look everywhere for anything," Sergei added, a little compassionate sarcasm palpable in his voice.  
  
["Great,"] Jeannine muttered to herself. They saw her open drawers, rummage through cupboards, dust bins, file cabinets...  
  
'God, they have to be there, somewhere in that office,' Mac kept telling herself. But the longer Jeannine searched the lesser was the possibility that she would really find something. Eventually Jeannine sighed. She was standing next to Kristen's desk, looking at the floor, defeated.  
  
["I don't know where else to look, Mac."]  
  
"Are you sure you left nothing out, Janni?" Mac had taken the mike again, knowing the answer. Jeannine was too thorough to leave anything out.  
  
["I am, Mac. Look, there's no use continuing in here."]  
  
But on the monitor something had caught Mac's attention. "Kneel down, please, right where you're standing."  
  
Wondering slightly, Jeannine complied. And then she saw them, too. Traces on the carpet, as if the heavy desk had been moved several times recently. ["Do you want me to have a look under the drawers compartment, Mac?"]  
  
"That's what I was thinking about. Can you do that?"  
  
["Sure."] Low moaning and heavy breathing could be heard as Jeannine obviously moved the desk again. ["Mac, there's a couple of photocopies underneath."]  
  
"Good work. Let us have a look at them."  
  
Sergei leaned closer to the monitor as Jeannine lifted the documents to her camera eye. Harm's brother immediately nodded. "That's the material we're looking for."  
  
"Okay, Janni, get the stuff under your sweater, pull back the desk and get the hell out of there," Mac ordered.  
  
["Aye, ma'am."]  
  
On her way back, Jeannine didn't encounter any difficulties, and soon she was at the fence again. Sturgis had taken Fred with him who right now sat on his shoulders, throwing a rope down to Jeannine. She attached it around herself and climbed while Fred pulled her up. As she reached the top and was about to pull her second leg over, she slipped, reflexively grabbed Fred for a hold and sent all three of them toppling to the ground. Fortunately, except for a few bruises for each party, no one was hurt. Minutes later, they were all inside the van again. Bud shut down the computer, having reinstalled the building's security systems, then took the driver's seat and headed off home.  
  
Sergei was overwhelmed with relief that Jeannine was back safely. He immediately pulled her into a tight embrace and made her sit down on his lap. She just took several deep breaths, her eyes closed, trying to relax.  
  
"You did an exceptional job in there, Cadet," Sturgis observed calmly. "I'll make sure that, once all this is over, I'll have Captain Wells add my report to your service record."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Mac was giving the evidence a quick first survey, whistling under her breath. "I don't know too much about aeronautics, but if this is what I think it is, we have something really big at hand. I doubt it will be enough to clear the admiral's name completely, though. There's still no indication as to who killed Sydney in the first place. But with the North Star data and the bills we found, we should at least be able to raise enough doubt to prevent a finding of 'guilty'. Problem is that we'll have to share our knowledge with Krennick. But I suggest we do that at the latest possible time." She looked up to Fred, determination shining in her glance. "I want you to call Kristen Cramer to the stand."  
  
"So do I, Mac. So do I," Fred answered slowly, somehow confident that he wouldn't be afraid of the task that lay before him.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Thirteen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part twelve:  
  
Sergei was overwhelmed with relief that Jeannine was back safely. He immediately pulled her into a tight embrace and made her sit down on his lap. She just took several deep breaths, her eyes closed, trying to relax.  
  
"You did an exceptional job in there, Cadet," Sturgis observed calmly. "I'll make sure that, once all this is over, I'll have Captain Wells add my report to your service record."  
  
"Thank you, sir."  
  
Mac was giving the evidence a quick first survey, whistling under her breath. "I don't know too much about aeronautics, but if this is what I think it is, we have something really big at hand. I doubt it will be enough to clear the admiral's name completely, though. There's still no indication as to who killed Sydney in the first place. But with the North Star data and the bills we found, we should at least be able to raise enough doubt to prevent a finding of 'guilty'. Problem is that we'll have to share our knowledge with Krennick. But I suggest we do that at the latest possible time." She looked up to Fred, determination shining in her glance. "I want you to call Kristen Cramer to the stand."  
  
"So do I, Mac. So do I," Fred answered slowly, somehow confident that he wouldn't be afraid of the task that lay before him.  
  
  
  
Part Thirteen:  
  
Mon, March 1st 2312 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
Harm was sweating profusely. His breath came in ragged gasps and he didn't know where to start counting all the muscles that were hurting badly. Despair showed in his eyes and Mac was hurting with him, compassion for him filling her heart. Once again, Harm closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and focused on the muscles he needed right now. He wouldn't give in. He had set his task for the day and he would conquer it. He would. He would! He struggled, fought, won inch per inch as he was trying to... dress himself.  
  
Mac had brought a pair of sweats and socks because Harm had complained that he always had to wear hospital scrubs. He planned on training to get up soon and he didn't like the idea of being in a shirt that opened behind. Mac had asked Zanelli if she might dress Harm in his own clothes, claiming that she knew he would like it and maybe feel more at ease which might bring him nearer to waking up. Reluctantly Zanelli had consented. Harm already received quite a lot of extra attention and exceptions to hospital rules. But the doctor had come to admire Colonel Rabb for the way she stuck to her husband and tried everything in her power to bring him back to his normal life. So he found it hard to deny her anything she asked - that pleading puppy-dog look always showing in those beautiful dark eyes of hers. And since he and his colleagues had decided the day before that Harm's pulse was now to be considered as reliable as his breathing, the heart monitor was gone. The IV was attached only when he needed nutrition. So Zanelli really didn't have a good-enough excuse not to let the colonel help her husband get comfortable.  
  
It had taken Harm a full ten minutes to lift his blanket and shove his legs out of his bed. An additional five minutes had been spent on pulling himself up into a sitting position. Mac had tried to reason with him that he was asking too much of his body, that what he had achieved up to this point was great and that he could lie down and rest without having a bad conscience. But Harm would have nothing of it. He was so sick of being confined to this room, seeing his daughter once a day if he was lucky. He wanted to be fit to leave as soon as it would be safe for him to officially wake up.  
  
Now he was sitting on his bed, trying to coordinate the movements that would first get his legs into his trousers and then have him pull them up to his hips. More than once Mac had stepped up to him, offering to help him, but he was determined to do it by himself. So she had finally given up on helping, sitting by and feeding Trisha instead. Silently, she watched as he worked his way through the trousers' legs until he had finally put them on. Now all he had to do was find a way to pull them up. As he looked at her, she only raised one eyebrow, doubtful about how he planned to do it.  
  
"Mac?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Help me stand, please." Harm's voice was still low and his pronunciation slightly slurred, the words coming out a little slower than usual. But he had mastered his speech, having - as he sheepishly admitted to her - recited poems to himself all night, whispering.  
  
Her eyes widened in shock. "Harm, are you crazy?" she hissed, concerned. "You can barely sit. How do you think your legs will hold your weight? You'll only fall and I can't get you back up into your bed on my own. And you know what that means."  
  
"I know, Mac. But I want to get my sweatpants on. Please," he pleaded.  
  
Defeated, Mac let out a sigh. 'Darn that Rabb stubbornness.' "Okay, sailor. Lean on to me." She rested Trisha on her left arm and walked over to stand at Harm's right. He grabbed her arm and pulled himself up, swaying slightly when his feet took a firm hold on the ground. With his free hand he quickly pulled up his sweatpants and after that immediately let himself drop back on the bed.  
  
"Well done, sailor." Mac gave him a warm smile.  
  
He smiled back, relieved. "Now for the sweater, Colonel, please."  
  
"Harm..."  
  
"Please, Mac."  
  
"Okay, okay. Here it is."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
Another ten minutes later, Harm had settled himself back on top of his bed, dressed comfortably in sweats and warm socks, grinning contently. "See, Mac? I told you I'd do it by myself."  
  
"You did. I'm proud of you." Something in her answer made him listen more closely. She was up to something, and it made him feel uneasy.  
  
"What aren't you telling me?"  
  
Mac gave him a slight smile, absentmindedly rocking Trisha as the little girl was sleeping soundly. "I brought you something to train your fine motor skills." With that, she opened her purse and handed Harm his cell- phone. "I made sure to bring sweatpants with a hidden inside pocket. Keep the phone in there and remember to put it someplace safe before they come to wash you. Now, when I'm gone, try to master the little movements a cell- phone requires, Commander, so I can at least be sure you don't pull off any more large-scale stunts."  
  
Harm gave her a mix of a smile and a frown. "Gee, thanks."  
  
She smiled innocently. "Don't tell me you don't need any small-scale training. What about your guitar?"  
  
He sighed. "I know, but I'd rather be able to go to the bathroom first. Honestly."  
  
Mac gave him a 'be-a-good-boy' smile. "Then consider it training for your patience. Why don't you try calling me, to get started?"  
  
Harm's frown suddenly lightened. "You know, Mac," he said, grinning, "Cell- phones aren't allowed inside the hospital."  
  
Rolling her eyes heavenward, Mac got up, reached over and switched the phone on. "Overruled, counselor," was all she said in a slightly exasperated tone.  
  
"Okay." With a little difficulty, Harm raised his hands in defense. He then looked at the small electronic device in his hand. "How did I ever get my large thumb to hit the right keys before?" he murmured, frowning. 'Call Mac. Thank the Lord for speed dial.' He slowly moved his right thumb over the keypad until he had reached the One. Pressing the key, he tried to keep it down for a few seconds. Eventually he heard a low chiming sound in Mac's purse. Grinning, he looked up.  
  
"That was nice for a start, Commander," Mac acknowledged. "Let's move on then. Task number two: dial manually." She reached into her purse and took out her cell, switching it to VibraCall in order not to alert staff members or wake Trisha.  
  
"You could go a little easier on me, Mac. I'm just recovering."  
  
Mac only raised her eyebrows again, choosing not to comment.  
  
Two minutes and many errors and corrections later, Harm had dialed her cell- phone number and pressed the call button. Mac happily held up a vibrating phone in reply. "Well done. Keep up the good work, sailor," she said, rising. "Try Short Message Service during sleepless nighttimes."  
  
"Aye, ma'am. Do you have to go?"  
  
Mac sighed. "Yeah. It's past Trisha's bedtime and I need to work on the admiral's defense."  
  
Shaking his head with a smile, Harm thought about what Mac had told him about last night. "I wish I had been with you. From what you told me, it could have been a real Clancy movie."  
  
Mac just frowned at him. "I'd say you got your share of 'Die Hard' instead, flyboy. Don't you ever get enough?"  
  
"Sorry, Colonel. It's just that the surroundings are starting to get the better of me."  
  
Mac couldn't help smiling with compassion. Being a restless soul herself, she understood what it must cost Harm to just lie motionless, pretend and wait while all of his friends were doing the real work. She bent down and very tenderly kissed him. "Be patient, Harm. I promise you'll be out of here soon and then I'm going to get you practice on other... umm... activities as well. Better rest now." She gave him a seductive wink.  
  
To her surprise, Harm didn't take up her humor as she had expected him to. Instead, he gave her one of those intense looks that went right down to the bottom of her heart. "If you knew just how much you haunt my dreams, Sarah," he whispered.  
  
She swallowed. "Believe me, I know." Again she kissed him, feeling his response grow more intense with each passing moment. Reluctantly, she broke away. "Really gotta go, Harm. Do you want to hold Trisha for a moment before we leave?"  
  
"Yeah." To make sure that the strength in his arms wouldn't falter, he intertwined his hands, holding on tight. Mac placed the sleeping girl into the natural crib he had thus created. "She is so warm and soft," Harm murmured in awe, smiling slightly at his daughter.  
  
"Promise me something, Harm?"  
  
He looked up at her, still smiling. "Anything."  
  
"As soon as you get home, can I take a few close up photos of you and her, just like that? She's gonna grow so fast, and this picture is just so perfect... Daddy." Mac's heart swelled at the sight of this tall, broad- shouldered man with his near-to-newborn daughter in his arms, giving her a smile that would deserve to be called angelic, hadn't it been... well, Harm.  
  
"Sure. If I can take photos of the two of you, too. 'Daddy'..." Harm then repeated to himself. "I still have to get used to that. But it feels great. Come on, little flygirl," he softly addressed the baby, "Let's get you back to Mommy so you can both go home and be good girls and sleep, okay?"  
  
Mac took Trisha and wrapped her in her blanket. Giving Harm a quick final peck on the lips, she smiled her goodbyes and left.  
  
Harm watched the door close and turned his attention back to his cell- phone. It hadn't been long since they'd switched to GSM technology and he hadn't yet used this SMS thing too often. Fred had told him that in Europe people, especially kids, were mad about it. And in Japan, the world didn't seem to work without SMS anymore. 'I could as well try it out,' Harm resolved. 'It's probably the only kind of exercise I'm still able to take this evening.'  
  
Fumbling with the menu keys and getting increasingly desperate over the fact that Motorola built such ridiculously small telephones, he stubbornly worked his way through the message service until he had successfully sent one out. Yawning contently, he managed to insert the small device into his hidden pocket and adjusted himself to 'coma' position, ready to be administered his medicine, while Mac, in her car, just smiled as the message icon popped up on her cell. She quickly pushed the right keys and her smile deepened.  
  
"I love you, too, Harm," she murmured to herself, silently bidding him goodnight.  
  
  
  
Same time Maryann Cramer's apartment Annapolis, MD  
  
  
  
For the umpteenth time, Maryann cursed her telephone. Every time that she had just immersed herself into her calculations and formulas, someone was sure to call. Angrily throwing the pen down on her pad, she got up from her desk and shuffled over to the phone, on her way turning on the TV. Zapping idly, she picked up the receiver.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Maryann? It's me."  
  
"Kristen? Is everything all right?"  
  
"Yeah... that is, no. MC, we're in trouble." Kristen's voice was tense.  
  
Maryann stiffened. "How so?" she asked, guarded.  
  
"Today I received a call from the Navy's Judge Advocate General's office, telling me that I had to come testify in one of their trials. It's about that admiral being charged with murder, I'm sure you heard about it."  
  
"Yeah, go on."  
  
"Well, I don't know how they get from murder to waste disposal, but they seem to have found out about MG's deal with Branwick."  
  
"Shit..." Maryann swore in a low voice, her grip on the remote control tightening.  
  
"That's just the beginning." Maryann could tell that Kristen was getting increasingly agitated. "I immediately checked the files and the Branwick folder is gone! I can't find any traces of forced entry, but no one except myself knew it was there so someone has to have been in here and has taken it away! And the worst thing is - they even took the North Star data!"  
  
Blanching considerably, Maryann grabbed the armrest of her sofa and slowly sat down. "Are you sure, Kris?" she asked her sister.  
  
"Yeah." Kristen's voice was a mere whisper.  
  
Maryann was silent for an entire two minutes. Kristen could tell that she was still on the line only by her breathing. Then she heard Maryann's voice, cold, distant and dangerously calm, seemingly talking to herself. "Rabb... You're gonna pay for this, you bastard. But how the hell did he get his information to anyone?"  
  
"MC?"  
  
Shaking herself from her state of haze, Maryann was about to reply when something else caught her attention. Inhaling sharply, she was suddenly eager to end the call. "I'll talk to you later, Kris. Don't worry, I'll take care of this. Just don't tell them anything until we get you a lawyer, okay? Bye!"  
  
She hung up without giving her sister the opportunity to respond. Then she just stared at the TV screen.  
  
["...is in the headlines once again. As we learned only yesterday, our favorite navy commander whom we all remember well from the government charity concert in May and from the Carnegie Hall show he did with Dwayne Myers Naval College, is right now fighting for his life at Bethesda Naval Hospital, D.C. Commander Rabb was shot in front of his house about two weeks ago and has been in a coma ever since.  
  
Although his wife, beautiful Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Rabb that we also remember from the Carnegie Hall event, claims that her husband was the victim of an ordinary street robbery, the facts seem to hint that Harmon Rabb was attacked in connection to the murder trial the Navy's Judge Advocate General, Admiral AJ Chegwidden, is about to face."]  
  
Images of Bethesda, the concerts and of Harm, Mac and AJ had been shown. Now the camera focused on the face of a young female doctor. ["Doctor Berner, how's Commander Rabb's condition?"  
  
"The commander is stable and although he has not shown any concrete signs of waking up, he seems to be getting better. The colonel, his wife, comes to see him every day and we hear her talk to him as if he were actually with her. She often takes their new baby to him, too. Scientific experiments have proven that creating a seemingly normal atmosphere around a comatose person has..."]  
  
Maryann didn't need to hear any more. Rabb was awake and fooling everybody about his real condition, she was sure about that. Only he could have made the connection between Branwick and Minton Greenwood and now, by playacting, he was obviously trying to protect his family.  
  
Racing out to her car, Maryann knew what she had to do. 'First I'll take out the prime witness, thoroughly this time, Rabb. Then I'll see to your wife. I wonder just what I have to do to her to make whoever broke into MG turn over the evidence to me. Never, I repeat, never underestimate Maryann Cramer.'  
  
With screeching tires, Maryann sped off to D.C.  
  
  
  
Tue, March 2nd 0125 ZULU Bethesda Naval Hospital Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
Harm rested the fingertips of his right hand against the fingertips of his left hand and, one by one, lifted the fingers off each other and brought them together again. He had been doing this for at least half an hour, or so he estimated, but still wasn't completely satisfied about how the movement felt. It had to be smooth, casual and controlled, not strained. So he kept practicing. Thumb, index, middle, fourth, fifth, thumb, index, middle, fourth, fifth, thumb, index...  
  
Suddenly he froze, getting the feeling that he was being watched. He couldn't have missed the door's clicking, could he? Willing the panic down, he risked a glance at the entrance to his room... and gasped. In the doorframe, Maryann Cramer stood watching his efforts with a thin smile, clad like a nurse, a wheelchair by her side.  
  
"Hello Commander Rabb." Her voice was low and honeyed.  
  
"What do you want?" Harm asked, wanting to break her neck and feeling frantic about being at her mercy.  
  
"You," she said calmly, closing the door and pushing the wheelchair up to his bed. "I'd like to correct my mistake, sir."  
  
"You can have me, but it's too late to correct your mistake, Cramer," Harm answered, his voice tight.  
  
"Oh, I doubt that. I'm sure they'll trade everything I want once I get to your wife and daughter."  
  
'Sarah! Trisha! No!!' "Don't - you - dare - hurt them, Cramer! I swear you're not going to live through it if you do!" Harm spat.  
  
Cramer's face showed a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Come on, Harmon, you're not really in the position to threaten me, and you know it. Now get your sorry six into that wheelchair and I warn you: one word and they're both dead girls."  
  
Harm didn't move, desperately trying to get his fear in check. This was a new situation for him. He had never been afraid of facing a crisis. But he had never been this utterly helpless, either, not even on the Watertown when Hodge had drugged him. Back then his state had been temporary. This time, he knew, he couldn't hope to recover in time. Harm wasn't afraid for himself. But he was realistic enough to see that he couldn't do anything to prevent Cramer from going after his family. And this knowledge threatened to drive him nuts. 'Get a grip, Hammer! You've got to stay calm if you want so much as a chance to save them!' He stared at Cramer and didn't budge.  
  
"I said: get in the wheelchair," she repeated pointedly.  
  
"Can't," he replied.  
  
"Okay, you're playing it the hard way? Well, so am I then." With that, she cruelly ripped off the IV that had been attached to his left arm earlier for nutrition, making him wince as searing pain shot through his body. Then she roughly pulled him out of his bed and let him drop into the wheelchair, noticing with satisfaction and slight astonishment that his feeble attempts to defend himself were indeed nothing to worry about.  
  
"Now, Commander, remember? No noise whatsoever. We're going to take a little trip."  
  
Harm knew better than to argue. Probably she didn't have Mac or Trisha but he couldn't be sure that he would be quick enough to get to them before she did if he tried anything. In fact, he was sure that he would never make it in time. So he didn't resist as Maryann let his arms drop onto his thighs in the wheelchair, covered him with a blanket up to his neck and quickly made her way for the parking lot. His left arm was still hurting and he felt blood trickle out of the small wound.  
  
"Can't I at least get a bandage?" he asked very low.  
  
She only glared at him and pushed on.  
  
'Think of something, Hammer. Anything... Sarah... Help... Call Sarah... Call... Phone... Cell-phone...'  
  
Praying silently and fervently that his plan might work out, Harm under the blanket slowly moved his hand until it came to rest over the hidden pocket. He had no idea which key it was he was pushing. He only hoped that someone would answer. And understand what this mess was all about.  
  
Across town, on a quiet street in Rosslyn, Claire Farnham was pulling into a parking space as her cell-phone started to beep. She cast a quick look at the display and her breath caught in her throat: the display clearly read 'Harm'.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback very much appreciated!) 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Fourteen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part thirteen:  
  
Harm knew better than to argue. Probably she didn't have Mac or Trisha but he couldn't be sure that he would be quick enough to get to them before she did if he tried anything. In fact, he was sure that he would never make it in time. So he didn't resist as Maryann let his arms drop onto his thighs in the wheelchair, covered him with a blanket up to his neck and quickly made her way for the parking lot. His left arm was still hurting and he felt blood trickle out of the small wound.  
  
"Can't I at least get a bandage?" he asked very low.  
  
She only glared at him and pushed on.  
  
'Think of something, Hammer. Anything... Sarah... Help... Call Sarah... Call... Phone... Cell-phone...'  
  
Praying silently and fervently that his plan might work out, Harm under the blanket slowly moved his hand until it came to rest over the hidden pocket. He had no idea which key it was he was pushing. He only hoped that someone would answer. And understand what this mess was all about.  
  
Across town, on a quiet street in Rosslyn, Claire Farnham was pulling into a parking space as her cell-phone started to beep. She cast a quick look at the display and her breath caught in her throat: the display clearly read 'Harm'.  
  
  
  
Part Fourteen:  
  
Tue, March 2nd 0141 ZULU Street in front of Fred and Claire's home Rosslyn, VA  
  
  
  
"What the..." Claire immediately pulled the handbrake, set the hazard warning lights flashing and took the call.  
  
"Farnham."  
  
No answer, only strange noises.  
  
"Hello? Harm, is that you? Mac?"  
  
Still nothing. Claire was about to end the connection when something made her listen more intently. It had sounded like a cry of pain, slightly muffled as if the telephone were covered by a layer of cloth. Holding her breath, Claire tried to make out a few more details. She heard someone moan slightly, a male voice. Then something that could have been a car door slamming shut. And immediately afterwards a low rumbling sound, like from the ignition of a car's motor. Frowning, Claire raised the volume of her cell-phone to maximum. Suddenly she heard a voice. A voice she immediately recognized.  
  
["So where are we going?"] Even though his voice was muffled, Claire could instantly make out that Harm seemed to be in pain.  
  
A woman could be heard answering but she was too far away from Harm's cell- phone for Claire to make out any words. Luckily, Harm seemed to be aware of that. ["This is the Interstate to Richmond, isn't it?"]  
  
Again, the woman said something and Harm commented on it. ["The woods. And that's where you're planning on disposing of me? Like you did with the barrels of chemicals?"]  
  
Claire felt herself starting to tremble with fear. She had no idea why Harm had called her of all people, but apparently it was now up to her to come to his rescue. She didn't dare to honk the horn, fearing that whoever was with Harm might hear something. She couldn't call anyone, either, because that would mean that she had to end the connection to Harm and she knew she would need the signal to track him wherever he was brought. Getting out of her car while leaving the motor running, she sped up to her apartment, frantically fighting with her house keys to open the door, always listening to the cell-phone. Harm was making casual comments about what he saw at the side of the road, or commenting on his captor's answers to his questions. The woman seemed to think that, by talking, he was trying to establish a relationship with her, to prevent her from eventually killing him. But Claire knew better. Harm was trying to give her hints to follow. She needed Fred.  
  
Claire breathlessly stormed into the apartment, once she had opened the door, and found a very surprised Fred looking up from his computer, dressed only in sports shorts and a t-shirt.  
  
"Claire, what..." He didn't get any further.  
  
"Ssshhh!" She agitatedly signaled him to stop. "Get your laptop and GPS and come with me at once! No questions, I'll explain later. Could be a matter of life or death!" she hissed, pointing her index finger at the cell-phone while grabbing Fred's sweatpants and woolen sweater that hung over the backrest of a nearby chair.  
  
Fred was bewildered, to say the least, and normally he would have argued. But he had seen his fiancée's eyes. And he remembered only one time that he had witnessed such horror in them: when she had been forced to shoot his kidnapper during the Long Island investigation. Fred had hoped to never to encounter this expression again in the eyes of his love. Seeing it now, made him jump immediately. He reached for his laptop and GPS and followed her downstairs to her car, not caring that he was in shorts and t-shirt and wasn't wearing any shoes.  
  
In the car, he rested the laptop on the back seat and put on the sweatpants and pullover that Claire had taken with her. Meanwhile, his fiancée had attached the cell-phone to the car's intercom.  
  
["So you just leave the Interstate somewhere, get me into the woods and that's it? I thought I deserved something more spectacular or you wouldn't have bothered to take this much upon you."]  
  
Hearing Harm's voice, Fred knew at once what this was about. Claire had driven off, heading directly for the I-95. "I need to call Voice Stream," Fred whispered to Claire. "They need to tell me which poles Harm's signal passed or I won't be able to track him."  
  
"Okay, but speak low. I don't know exactly how much they might hear," Claire murmured back, keeping her eyes on the road, her hands clutched tightly around the steering wheel until her knuckles turned white. "Do you have any idea who she is?"  
  
"Not only an idea," Fred whispered back. "I'm pretty sure she's Cmdr. Cramer."  
  
"Oh God."  
  
Fred attached his cell-phone to his laptop and quickly logged on to the Internet. Having found the Voice Stream service hotline, he disconnected and called.  
  
"This is an emergency," he muttered as low as he thought would still be comprehensible, as soon as someone picked up. "This is Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti speaking, United States Navy Judge Advocate General Corps. You can have someone check my identity but I need help this instant on tracking a phone connection. The owner of the number in question might be in mortal danger... Yes, I have the number," Fred quickly looked up Harm's cell on his computer screen and gave it to the clerk he was talking to. "No, Miss, listen: I can't wait. Someone's going to die if I don't get to him in time. Do you understand me?... Look, I... Listen," Fred quickly researched Sturgis's number in the virtual address book, "Get one of your colleagues to call this number." He read the number out to her. "You'll reach Cmdr. Sturgis Turner who's acting JAG right now. He'll confirm my identity. But I need your help now!!"  
  
The urgent hissing had obviously convinced the clerk. Fred thanked her and began typing data into his navigation program. Shortly after, a line of broadcasting poles that Harm's signal had gone through, showed clearly on the electronic map. "What's your extension, Miss?... Okay... You keep tracking the signal. I'll call you back in no time. Thank you for your help." With that, he ended the call and immediately dialed Mac's number. 'Come on, Colonel, pick up!' he silently implored her.  
  
"Rabb."  
  
"Mac? This is Fred."  
  
"Fred, what's up?" Mac sounded a little amused. "One could think you just..."  
  
She didn't get to finish the sentence. "Mac, listen: Harm's been kidnapped by Cramer." Fred spoke hastily, trying to get everything out before Mac could ask for details. "For some reason he called Claire and we're now following him, based on the comments he's made on where they're going. They're on the I-95 right now. I'm tracking them down. Can you call Sturgis and maybe Sergei and get out here?"  
  
The receiver seemed to be frozen in mid-air. Mac was paralyzed, hearing the news. "No, please..." she whispered, then took a deep breath, switching to Marine mode to shut out the panic and the pain. "I'm already out of here. Harm told me that he feared Cramer might come after Trisha and me if she found out about his state. So I'll take Trisha with me and I'll call Harriet to help us out with her parents' mountain cabin for us to hide out for a while. Keep me informed, Fred."  
  
"Sure." He hesitated. "Mac?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Don't worry, we're right behind them."  
  
Mac smiled, despite herself. "I know, Fred. Thanks. See you."  
  
"See you, too." Fred ended the connection and immediately re-called the telephone company. "Lt. Prumetti here... yes, that's right. What have you got?... I see... So they just left the I-95... Can you give me the coordinates of that pole?... Yes, I've got them... No, by GPS... Okay, I see where they must be heading. Keep tracking, please. I'll call you back. Thank you so much."  
  
"Do you know where they are?" Claire asked in an anxious murmur.  
  
"Yeah," Fred hissed back, "At least I know where they must have left the Interstate. They seem to be heading west now. I suppose she plans on going up in the mountains. No one's gonna find Harm up there." Fred's voice was just a little bitter.  
  
Claire reached over with her right hand and covered his left, briefly smiling at him. "Ci saremo noi, marinaio." [We'll be there, sailor.] Her voice wasn't entirely steady but she was trying to be brave. Fred knew that bravery wasn't a standard trait of Claire's character. At times she frightened rather easily and she tended to panic as long as she couldn't do anything but sit and wait. But it was at times like this that he once more remembered why he felt he could rely on her in full. Like back on Long Island. When the situation needed immediate action, Claire seemed to grow wings. Even frightened to death, she would act, and do it in a considered way. She may break down afterwards, but she always managed to handle the danger.  
  
Fred had to admit to himself that, among other things, he also loved her for being vulnerable. Claire's emotional nature made the highs seem even higher. The sun was brighter if Claire was happy to see it shine. Claire could hear a piece of music for the hundredth time and still cry because it was so beautiful to her. Claire could light up his day just by being rapturous over the first flowers in the snow, or by lying on her back under the stars, totally at peace with the world, smiling contently as she listened to the silence for hours. And Fred adored her for the strength she found within her seeming weaknesses. Because she wasn't ashamed of them. 'This is me, I can't and won't do anything about it,' she used to say. And accepting that people at times might find her emotional side disturbing made her strong.  
  
Fred knew Claire had walked down a long road to come to terms with her own nature. For too long, she had considered herself a frightened little girl, being constantly proven right by the opinions that her classmates would express about her and by the way they kept teasing and humiliating her, the good girl, the ardent student. For too long, Claire had tried to hide behind a mask of professionalism to protect herself from being hurt. She had refused to confront her true self. Until she had met him. Maybe that had been the first time that Claire Farnham had ever really trusted anyone else besides her parents. And she discovered that letting out the emotional side of her character, that she was so afraid of, made her feel free and more light-hearted than she had felt in years. She was aware that, by opening up, she exposed her inside to the danger of being hurt. But for the first time in her life Claire had been ready and willing to take the risk. Because of him. She had told him that. And he had vowed to himself and to her to protect her from the world that she had so long shut out.  
  
"Earth to Fred?" Claire's voice entered his conscious.  
  
"Sorry, I got carried away." He smiled at her.  
  
Claire gently returned his smile. "Care to share?"  
  
Blushing slightly, Fred decided that this wasn't the time for knight-in- shining-armor antics. "Not now," he replied softly, his grin widening.  
  
Claire had an idea where his thoughts had been headed. Again she quickly extended her hand, softly caressing his cheek with the back of her index, smiling. "Ho già capito. Grazie per esserci per me, marinaio." [I see. Thanks for being there for me, sailor.]  
  
Fred's smile intensified, holding just a slightly embarrassed edge. "Vedrai che ce la faremo, mio ben. Sarà tutto okay," he answered softly, reassuringly, earning himself another brief smile. [We're gonna make it, you'll see, honey. Everything's gonna be okay.]  
  
"Lo so," she only answered confidently, turning her concentration back on the street. [I know.]  
  
Fred checked his computer. "Okay, in about 500 yards we should get to the exit that they probably took. Did Harm say anything important while I was out of it?"  
  
"No, he didn't say anything except that he wanted a bandage for his arm."  
  
Just then, Harm spoke up again. ["Why are we stopping here?"]  
  
Fred and Claire listened intently as Harm went on, replying to something Cramer must have said.  
  
["So you're going to push me into the woods in the wheelchair and just leave me? Why not kill me right here?"]... ["Right, they would find me down here,"] obviously they were already out and underway, ["But they'll get to me up there, too, eventually."]... ["Okay, so you'll just drop me, put that wheelchair back into that white Landrover of yours and bring it back to the hospital? Why do you like white cars anyway?"]  
  
"Look out for a white car!" Claire hissed, concentrating on the street that kept getting narrower and bumpier all the time.  
  
Fred's cell-phone started to vibrate. "Prumetti."  
  
"Fred? It's Mac. I'm in the car with Sturgis, Sergei, Jeannine and Trisha. We're to meet Harriet at the cabin as soon as we've got Harm. Where are you?" Fred could tell Mac was trying to hold her fear in check.  
  
"We left the Interstate at exit number 38. We're headed west now. Harm and Cramer obviously left the car. Look out for a white Landrover."  
  
"Understood. I'll call you."  
  
"Okay, bye." Fred ended the call in time to hear Harm's next words.  
  
["I can't get out of the wheelchair. You know that, Commander."]  
  
A cry of pain and a thudding sound followed his statement. Then, low moaning and rustling was heard. It seemed Harm was still trying to keep his friends updated on his state. With a still more slurred pronunciation, he went on talking. ["So that's it? Do I get a last question to ask before you leave me alone?"]  
  
Claire and Fred held her breaths as they frantically searched for any signs that might indicate where Harm and his captor had left their car.  
  
["Okay. Would you mind coming over here? I can't hear you from there. Here's my question: did you kill Sydney Walden?"] Claire turned up the volume of her car's loudspeakers but just then the phone line went dead.  
  
"Shit!" she exclaimed. "What now? Call him back?"  
  
"No," Fred answered, thinking, "I think it's too dangerous. What if he isn't on VibraCall? We must continue the search on the basis of what we have now. We can narrow the area to a diameter of about five miles. I'll call the company to get their last detected position."  
  
"Fred?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"This will work, right?"  
  
He sighed, not wanting to raise false hopes. "I hope it does."  
  
  
  
Same time Unknown location  
  
  
  
Harm's head was pounding and spinning furiously. He had hit it hard when Cramer had pulled him out of the wheelchair and let him drop to the ground. At least he hadn't fallen on his cell-phone. He was lying on the icy ground, half on his right side, half on his belly, but his right hand was within reach of his phone while his body shielded it from Cramer's view. There wasn't much he could do now for whoever might have gotten his earlier call. They'd come and find him or they wouldn't. It was out of his hands now. So, why not use the phone for better things, just in case he should make it out of here safely?  
  
"So that's it? Do I get a last question to ask before you leave me alone?"  
  
Maryann laughed a little. "Curious to the last, aren't we, Rabb? But why not? Ask."  
  
"Okay. Would you mind coming over here? I can't hear you from there. Here's my question:" Harm tried to will the stars to stop dancing in front of his eyes. He needed a clear mind for what was going to follow. "Did you kill Sydney Walden?"  
  
He slowly moved his hand inside his pocket and ended his previous call. Then he tried to locate the key he would need right now. Praying that it worked, he pressed it.  
  
Maryann approached and sat down by his side. "Yes, I killed Doctor Walden," said coolly. "I'm amazed no one found out yet. Seems I really made sure not to leave traces."  
  
Harm wanted the full version, just to be sure. "You went to her house, rang the bell, let her open the door and then you stabbed her."  
  
"If you already knew that, why ask, Commander Rabb?" Maryann replied, icily and sweetly at the same time.  
  
"Just to make sure."  
  
"You're not in the place to investigate me any longer. So why bother?"  
  
Harm only smiled enigmatically. "Just like that."  
  
Maryann cast him a suspicious glance, but all she could detect in the lawyer's expression was neutral interest. "Why did you do it?" he eventually asked.  
  
"Doctor Walden had found out about the chemicals. One of MG's drivers saw her poking around the barrels in the woods, taking notes. The money we save by getting rid of our garbage like that enables Branwick to stay competitive. Branwick's my granddad's life's work and I'd do anything to save the company. Through her disclosures, Sydney Walden had endangered it. So, you see, I had no choice. It was rather fortunate that the admiral showed up when he did."  
  
Fuming, Harm willed himself to relax. "Thank you. No further questions." 'For the moment, Commander Cramer, for the moment only!'  
  
"Good bye then, Rabb. It was nice meeting you. I'm only sorry it had to be under such nasty circumstances. I'll send flowers for your grave." With that, she turned, walked away and took the wheelchair with her.  
  
Harm was alone. He tried to get up but didn't even make it as far as to his knees. 'Maybe I did ask too much of my body today,' he scolded himself, wishing he had listened to Mac's advice. He tried to crawl, but after a few yards he had to give way to his exhaustion. With one last effort he reached for his cell-phone, switching it to acoustic chiming, to make sure he heard if someone tried to call him. Next, he tried to call Mac, but exhaustion made him drop the phone. It toppled to the ground and slid out of reach of his hands. Frowning, he tried to stretch, but then everything just went black, his body finally refusing the service.  
  
  
  
Same time Same region  
  
  
  
"Look, Claire! That's her!" Fred exclaimed, making her jump.  
  
"Who?"  
  
"Cramer! Don't tell me you didn't notice the white SUV that just whooshed past us!"  
  
"What? Uh... yes, I did. So, where did she come from?"  
  
"Straight ahead. Look, there's something like an unofficial parking lot on the other side of the road."  
  
Claire immediately pulled over. They got off the car, looking for traces. "I'm only glad there's some snow left," Claire remarked as she studied the ground.  
  
"Yeah. And I'm glad you always insist on keeping my mountain boots in your car. Would you pass them to me?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
While Fred laced up his shoes, Claire quickly called Mac and supplied her with their present coordinates, always continuing to study the ground. "Look! Those traces could have been caused by a wheelchair!" she then called out to Fred.  
  
"Right," Fred acknowledged, stepping up to her. "Let's go."  
  
"Let's wait for Mac and the rest of us. They should be here in five."  
  
Five minutes later, Harm's SUV came to a halt beside them. Claire chose to stay in the car with Jeannine and Trisha, handing her jacket to Fred, while a very pale but composed Mac, an unperturbedly calm but frowning Sturgis and an excessively worried but still slightly smiling Sergei joined the search party that set off, following the marks left in the snow.  
  
The farther they went into the woods, the lesser became the snow, and with it, the traces. Eventually they ended.  
  
"Maybe we should split up?" Sergei suggested, not sure if he was saying the right thing.  
  
"Wait," Mac cut in. "I'd first like to try something." In her purse, she fished for her cell-phone and dialed Harm's number. They were lucky. Not too far away, a low chiming sound could be heard.  
  
This sound was all that was necessary to make them run. Mac took the lead, the chiming causing joy and fear within her at the same time. Then she saw him.  
  
"Harm!!!"  
  
He lay still. Cold fear clutched Mac's heart. 'No, please, God, no!' She flung herself down on her knees by his side, gently turned him over so that his head came to rest in her lap, feeling for a pulse. He was so cold!  
  
"Is he alive?" Sturgis panted as he reached them, immediately getting down at Harm's other side.  
  
Mac, to her infinite relief, had found a pulse that even seemed to be rather steady. And he was breathing, too. "Yes, he is," she answered, continuing to stroke Harm's head and face in order to get him to wake up. "Harm. Harm! Can you hear me? It's me, Sarah!"  
  
Sarah... Call Sarah... Help... Sarah found me... Slowly the darkness that had prevailed in Harm's mind began to dissolve. "Sarah..." he whispered, fighting with his eyelids, still unable to move for all the fatigue that he felt.  
  
"I'm right here, flyboy, now don't you pass out on me again, do you hear me? We'll get you to the Sims' mountain cabin and we'll all hide out there. You, me, Trisha, Sergei and Janni. You still with me?"  
  
"Yeah... tired..."  
  
In his state of beginning hypothermia, sleeping could be dangerous. Mac knew she had to do everything in her power to keep him awake. "Talk to me, sailor. Tell me everything about how she got to you."  
  
Meanwhile, Sturgis, Fred and Sergei had lifted him onto a makeshift stretcher that Sergei and Fred had hastily constructed with two broken-down saplings, Sergei's coat and their shoelaces. Now they carefully carried him down the hill to his waiting car, always trying to keep him talking.  
  
Finally they were on the road to the Sims' cabin. Sturgis was behind the wheel with Fred at his side. Sergei, Jeannine and Claire had taken the backseat with Trisha while Mac was securely holding Harm in her arms on the middle bench.  
  
"Mac?" he whispered, smiling slightly.  
  
"Yeah?" Mac found his smile was contagious.  
  
"Thanks for coming after me. How did you find me?"  
  
"You called Claire, remember?"  
  
His smile intensified for a moment. "So it was Claire that got the lucky shot."  
  
"Yes. She immediately dragged Fred out and went to your rescue. Fred informed me and had the phone company track your cell's signal."  
  
"Wow. And all that for an old man like me," he whispered, slightly squeezing her hand. Before she could protest, he changed the subject. "I've got a surprise for you, ninja-girl," he admitted softly.  
  
Mac only looked at him with upraised eyebrows.  
  
"Take my cell, please," he told her. As Mac had complied, he smiled again. "Now press that little button up on the right. And listen."  
  
Curious, Mac did as she was told. And Harm watched with growing amusement as her eyes started getting wide while listening.  
  
["Yes, I killed Doctor Walden. I'm amazed no one found out yet. Seems I really made sure not to leave traces."  
  
"You went to her house, rang the bell, let her open the door and then you stabbed her."  
  
"If you already knew that, why ask, Commander Rabb?"  
  
"Just to make sure."  
  
"You're not in the place to investigate me any longer. So why bother?"  
  
"Just like that. Why did you do it?"  
  
"Doctor Walden had found out about the chemicals. One of MG's drivers saw her poking around the barrels in the woods, taking notes. The money we save by getting rid of our garbage like that enables Branwick to stay competitive. Branwick's my granddad's life's work and I'd do anything to save the company. Through her disclosures, Sydney Walden had endangered it. So, you see, I had no choice. It was rather fortunate that the admiral showed up when he did."  
  
"Thank you. No further questions."]  
  
When the recording had ended, Mac gaped at her husband, at a loss of words. This was all the proof they needed. Maryann's voice was faint but still comprehensible. At last, Mac found her speech. "So you're telling me that while she was trying to get rid of you, you, just like that, coaxed her into supplying us with the one decisive piece of evidence that will clear Chegwidden's name?" she asked, thunderstruck by how he had kept a cool head in spite of his situation.  
  
"Yep." Harm just grinned.  
  
Mac bent down and passionately kissed him. "Do you know that you're an amazing man, Harmon Rabb, Jr.?"  
  
Keeping his eyes shut, a very satisfied expression showing on his face, he acknowledged. "Yes. And that's exactly why you love me, Colonel."  
  
As he heard her snort, he had a hard time to keep his mouth from twitching.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	15. Chapter Fifteen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Fifteen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part fourteen:  
  
When the recording had ended, Mac gaped at her husband, at a loss of words. This was all the proof they needed. Maryann's voice was faint but still comprehensible. At last, Mac found her speech. "So you're telling me that while she was trying to get rid of you, you, just like that, coaxed her into supplying us with the one decisive piece of evidence that will clear Chegwidden's name?" she asked, thunderstruck by how he had kept a cool head in spite of his situation.  
  
"Yep." Harm just grinned.  
  
Mac bent down and passionately kissed him. "Do you know that you're an amazing man, Harmon Rabb, Jr.?"  
  
Keeping his eyes shut, a very satisfied expression showing on his face, he acknowledged. "Yes. And that's exactly why you love me, Colonel."  
  
As he heard her snort, he had a hard time to keep his mouth from twitching.  
  
  
  
Part Fifteen:  
  
Tue, March 2nd 1334 ZULU The Sims' mountain cabin Allegheny Mountains, WVA  
  
  
  
The first thing Harm noticed as he woke up was the warm, slender body that was lying in his arms. Mac was still sleeping peacefully, obviously utterly exhausted from the strain of the last few days. Harm carefully buried his face in the curve of her neck, reveling in the feeling of her calmly rising and falling chest against his own. God, he had missed this. Missed her. And there had been desperate moments when he had been forced to believe that he'd probably never be able to hold her like that again.  
  
His relief threatened to overwhelm him. She was with him and this was all he ever needed. Gathering her still tighter into his embrace he willed his emotions to calm down. Trying to shut everything else out of his mind, Harm concentrated only on her scent, the feel of her silky skin, the softness of her hair against his cheeks, the warmth of her body. The evening before, his condition hadn't been life-threatening, but his temperature had been rather low. So Mac had decided that the best way to warm him up again was to lie next to him, skin to skin, under the heavy blanket in the Sims' bedroom. And as soon as the others had left and Sergei and Jeannine had retreated into the guest room, Mac had first called Zanelli at the hospital, quickly explaining the situation and ordering him to cover for them. Then she had built up a strong fire in the bedroom's fireplace, had undressed Harm and herself and had cuddled up to him. Too exhausted even to think, Harm had barely managed to kiss her goodnight before drifting off to dreamland.  
  
But now, after a good night's rest, he was keenly aware of her physical closeness and the effect it produced on him. And suddenly he felt fear rise inside himself. He tensed and swallowed, taking deep breaths to try and calm down, but the fear wouldn't subside. Sure, Mac was in his arms, but what if he'd never again be able to love her the way he longed to? What if Cramer's assault had deprived them of their cherished moments of physical union, the feeling of being as close as they could possibly get to one another, the feel of truly being one flesh and one soul? And what if Mac felt that he couldn't give her all she wanted anymore? Would they drift apart? Would he lose her all the same, even now as he tried so hard to be himself again?  
  
His fear threatened to choke him. 'Power down, Hammer!' he tried to fight his demons. 'You don't know yet what will happen to you. Don't panic!' Slowly he managed to get a grip. But try as he might - he couldn't completely chase the gnawing uneasiness.  
  
A soft whine from the direction of Trisha's makeshift crib made him listen. Obviously Mac's maternal instincts had been on high alert the whole time she had been sleeping, for she instantly stirred, opened her eyes and cast Harm a brilliant smile before quickly getting up and taking her daughter up in her arms. Then she settled down on the bed again and prepared to feed the little girl.  
  
"Good morning, sailor," she said softly, bending down to kiss him. "How do you feel?"  
  
Harm willed away his anxiety and tried a smile. "I don't know where to start," he admitted sincerely.  
  
Mac smiled. "I know what you mean," she agreed, "I haven't slept so well in weeks as I did last night. Thanks to you."  
  
He tried to ignore the sting that her answer evoked. "I noticed," he simply whispered.  
  
"I missed you, sailor."  
  
"And I you, my favorite Marine," he answered, slowly reaching up with his hand and tenderly caressing her cheek, watching her as she half lay beside him with their little girl.  
  
Trisha didn't seem to be too hungry. She stopped sucking and whined very low, her little arms reaching for something in the air that was invisible to her parents.  
  
Mac smiled as she observed her husband watching his little girl in awe. "You want to see to it?" she asked, holding out to him the towel that she used to put on her shoulder when Trisha had finished drinking.  
  
He flashed her a surprised grin. "Yeah, I'd love to. Hold on a second." Gritting his teeth, he eventually managed to shove himself into a half- seated position as well. Mac placed the towel on his shoulder and then put the little girl in his arms. Harm softly kissed his daughter on her black hair as her small head rested against his shoulder.  
  
"Tap her on the back," Mac instructed him. "She needs to get rid of the pressure in her stomach."  
  
"I know," he replied, smiling. "You see, Mac, I may be a man, but I did go to lamaze classes with you, remember?"  
  
She chuckled softly. "I'm sorry, flyboy. Of course you did." Unable to refrain from smiling, she watched as Harm occupied himself with his daughter. He seemed totally absorbed as he held her, the expression on his face mirroring Mac's own.  
  
"I always imagined myself doing this," he murmured, more to himself than to her, "But this feels way different from what I expected."  
  
"You've got it bad, Commander," Mac commented, smirking.  
  
He looked up, grinning. "Jealous, Colonel?"  
  
"Just a little bit," she smiled. "But I'm sure you'll be able to fix that, don't you think?" Her voice was just a little seductive, and to her astonishment, she saw his expression cloud for a second. "Harm?"  
  
'Great, Hammer. Do you always have to be that obvious? Now she's worried and that's the last thing she needed.' "Uh..." he smiled a little sheepishly, "I have another problem to get rid of first."  
  
Mac only raised her eyebrows.  
  
"I'm sure you saw the bag they attached to my bladder at the hospital, right?"  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Well, I guess by now it would long have been replaced by a fresh one. But as that wasn't possible... Mac, I somehow need to get to the bathroom. Rather quickly, I fear." He gave her a lopsided grin.  
  
"I see." Mac suspected that his uneasiness had yet another reason, but she decided to let it slip for the moment. His imminent problem needed attention first. She took Trisha from his arms and bedded her in her crib. Then she put on her bathrobe and rounded the bed. "Do you think you can stand if you lean on me?"  
  
"I think so." He put his hands behind her neck and let her pull him up. Leaning heavily on her, he concentrated on shuffling one foot in front of the other, hearing Mac's labored breathing as she tried to hold him in a standing position. Luckily, the bathroom was next door, and she managed to get him inside.  
  
"You sure you'll cope on your own?" she asked, gasping.  
  
"Guess... so..." came his strained answer.  
  
Mac waited outside, just in case he might need her. Two minutes later, she heard the flush.  
  
"Mac?" came his voice from inside.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you have a bandage or something? I got rid of the bag but I need something for the small wound it left behind."  
  
"I'll see to it in a minute." She quickly got the first aid kit from her bag and joined him in the bathroom. Casting him a disapproving frown for his impatient self-treatment, she cleaned the wound that, fortunately, wasn't big. Then she applied a bandage to it. "Better wash and dress now," she advised him, "Bud, Harriet and a friend of hers will be here any minute with our breakfast." She fetched him fresh sweats and helped him clean up.  
  
"What friend of hers?" he asked, curious.  
  
"Do you remember little AJ's comrade, Tyler Crane?" He nodded. "His mom," she went on, "Works with Greenpeace. Harriet told her about the barrels in the woods, and she went out there and checked out the site. She agreed to be a witness in the trial."  
  
"Great. Did you call the admiral yet?"  
  
"No. Actually I'd like to do that first."  
  
He smiled at her. "Go, Marine. I'll manage. You can tell Sergei to come and get me when I'm done here."  
  
"Thanks." She quickly kissed him on the lips, made sure that he was seated safely against the wall and left the room. Outside she ran into Sergei who apparently wanted to take a shower. Mac instructed him to help his brother and get him into the living room once he was finished. Then she asked Jeannine to look after Trisha and went over to the phone.  
  
  
  
Tue, March 2nd 1425 ZULU Detention Facility Washington Navy Yard Washington, D.C.  
  
  
  
"Admiral? You have a phone call."  
  
AJ inwardly sighed with relief. Ever since Mac had, casually, told him of their break-in at Minton Greenwood, he had been uneasy about what the lunatics who called themselves JAG officers would do next. Whenever he got a phone call, he could at least be sure that they were still able to get in touch with him and hadn't all got caught doing something illegal. Or worse.  
  
Eagerly, he grabbed the receiver. "Chegwidden," he barked.  
  
"Admiral, it's Mac."  
  
"Just for the record, Colonel, I'm still mad at you."  
  
She actually chuckled! 'There goes discipline...' he frowned.  
  
"And we're all very sorry for what we did, sir."  
  
AJ had to grin despite himself. "The hell you are," he answered, not even succeeding to sound gruff. It felt good to be sure that those kids were working on his release. "So what's the news? I hope everything is going smoothly?" He stretched and stressed the last word and immediately felt his trepidation rise as she hesitated to answer.  
  
"Uhm... yes, sir." She sounded embarrassed.  
  
AJ cleared his throat. "Tell me," he only stated pointedly.  
  
"Umm, yesterday evening Cmdr. Cramer found out about Harm's state, sir."  
  
Couldn't she just spill the beans? Why did she always have to pause? "Go on, Colonel," AJ said, trying to stay calm.  
  
"You know Harm's helpless, sir, so she just walked out of the hospital with him and brought him up in the woods, obviously intending to leave him there to die from hypothermia. He wouldn't have been able to walk away."  
  
"How did you find out?"  
  
"I had brought Harm his cell-phone earlier, to get him to practice his fine motor skills. And I was allowed to bring him some sweats as well. He kept the phone hidden in a small inside pocket, pressed a key in the hope of reaching someone and got Claire. She understood what the situation was about and went after him with Fred who managed to track the signal. They called us and we secured him. We're at the Sims' mountain cabin right now, up in the Alleghenies, hiding out with Sturgis' permission."  
  
AJ let out an exasperated and relieved breath. "Good God, Mac, I'm glad to hear you're safe. How's Harm?"  
  
"Much better now, sir. He's using the time to get to know his daughter." AJ could hear Mac smile and had to smile himself.  
  
"Tell him to keep doing that. He'd just get in your way with the investigation. And he'll hardly be helpful to me in his present state." To his bewilderment, AJ heard Mac laugh out loud at his last remark. "What's so funny, Colonel?" he asked a little gruffly.  
  
"I'm sorry, sir. But you know Harm. Actually, he was infinitely helpful to our cause yesterday night."  
  
AJ's brow furrowed. "How's that?"  
  
Mac was still chuckling. "You see, sir, instead of trying to figure out a way to get away from his captor, he relied on us to find him and got Cramer to confess that she killed Sydney, unaware of the fact that he recorded the confession on his cell."  
  
AJ was speechless. Rabb's damn luck again... "Well... tell him I'm grateful, Colonel. But I order him to stay out of your way from now on. Right?"  
  
"Understood, sir. How are you?"  
  
"Bored."  
  
Again Mac chuckled and AJ loved the sound. "Take care, sir," Mac said warmly.  
  
"You do that, too, Sarah," he answered softly, "All of you. I'd like to have a family to get back to."  
  
"You do, sir."  
  
  
  
Wed. March 3rd 0424 ZULU Guest room The Sims' mountain cabin Allegheny Mountains, WVA  
  
  
  
Jeannine was lying on her back, arms crossed behind her head, staring at the ceiling. Sunday she would have to go back to Long Island. It felt strange to think of the college's safe everyday-routine when you were hiding out from a lunatic killer in a deserted mountain cabin with a disabled man, a near-to-newborn baby and your boyfriend of a few weeks. How could she ever get back to her normal life after this? How could she ever get Dorrie or Cass to believe her when she told them of her break-in into a highly secured firm? Although she was sure that her friends carefully followed the events on the news, they'd never, never swallow the role she had played in the affair. And how could you go back to sleep alone when you had shared your nights with one of the most caring and tender young men alive?  
  
Nothing intimate had happened yet between her and Sergei, and somehow Jeannine was grateful for it. Although she had the impression that she already knew him better than she'd ever known her former boyfriend, she felt that this new relationship might go beyond what she'd ever experienced and she needed time to adjust. Sergei was too shy to ever push her to anything. So, by unspoken agreement, they rejoiced in what they had and let things happen when they were due. But she had definitely gotten used to sleep in his embrace and she was going to miss that.  
  
A rustle at her side shook her from her thoughts. Sergei switched off the lights and leaned over to her. Even in the dark she could see his smile. "Spakoynoy nochy, Yanina."  
  
"Good night to you, too, Sergeant." She smiled and closed her eyes as she felt Sergei's head descend to kiss her. Feeling his lips shyly brush hers, she tensed and lifted her head a little to return his caress.  
  
As he felt her respond, Sergei willed himself to refrain from embracing her tightly like he suddenly longed to. He had felt this way before, but out here, in the quiet intimacy of the mountain cabin, she seemed nearer to him than even in his own apartment. The one thing he dreaded was asking too much of her. So he just limited himself to moving closer to her, his head on her pillow, smiling at her in the dark. Suddenly adrenaline shot up high inside his body as she leaned over and kissed him again. Her kiss was soft, but determined. He tentatively wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, never breaking the kiss.  
  
Jeannine felt a little frightened when she noticed the passion that slowly started to build between them as their kiss grew in intensity. But on the other hand she had never felt as secure as she did right now in Sergei's arms. She sensed his hands on her back under her t-shirt, the sensation being the physical confirmation of Sergei's tender disposition. He wouldn't do anything that she didn't consent to. Her heart went out to him and she again felt fear. Not of him. Tonight, she would have gone anywhere he decided to lead. But she wasn't accustomed to feel so deeply for a man, and she wasn't ready to lose control yet. What if it didn't work out?  
  
Sergei immediately sensed her inward tension. At once he retreated, slightly confused and concerned. "I... I'm sorry, Jan," he whispered.  
  
Jeannine reached out and gently caressed his cheek. "There's nothing you need to be sorry for, Sergei," she said softly, "It felt wonderful to be caressed that way. I just think I'm not ready yet for more. Can you understand that?"  
  
"Of course, and I'm sorry I pushed you." His voice was still uneasy.  
  
Jeannine once again closed the distance and slowly, tenderly kissed him. "You didn't. I love you, Sergei. You know that, right?"  
  
She could hear his relieved smile when he spoke. "I know. Ya tulka looblyóo, Yanina. I really do."  
  
She sighed contently and settled down in his arms, listening to his heartbeat as she waited for sleep to come to her.  
  
  
  
Same time The Sims' bedroom  
  
  
  
Mac closed the door behind herself and quickly checked on the peacefully sleeping baby before she turned off the lights and slipped under the blanket beside her husband. Harm already seemed to be sleeping, lying on his right side, turning his back towards her. Mac smiled a little wryly to herself. She had hoped for a few... inspiring moments before going to sleep. But she would not disturb him now. As could have been expected, he had done everything but obey Chegwidden's order not to get involved in the investigation. First, he had insisted on questioning Casey Crane together, too curious to just sit passively by. To everyone's great relief, Casey Crane had turned out to be an expert on chemical pollution and was more than able to be a key witness.  
  
Later on, Harm and Bud had worked out a defense strategy together. Mac was grateful that she and Fred would have a solid base to work from now, but she had scolded him for wearing himself out. And when she had finally thought that she had convinced him to quit working, he had only called Sergei and done physical exercises until he had been covered with sweat from head to toe. He had earned his rest.  
  
Scooping close to him, she softly bade him goodnight. "Sleep well, flyboy. Sweet dreams." She reached over with her left hand in order to caress his face, but froze when she felt that his cheek was wet. And at her touch, she was shocked to hear that Harm tried to suppress a sob. Immediately she wrapped him in her arms and gently turned him to lie on his back. He barely tried to resist. Both his cheeks bore traces of tears and he squeezed his lips shut as he looked up at her in helpless grief.  
  
Mac was shaken to the bottom of her heart. "Harm? What is it?" she asked gently, hurting to see him this desperate.  
  
He only sniffed and turned his head to the side to avoid her kind eyes. Her compassionate glance hurt too much right now.  
  
"Harm, talk to me," she tried again, softly kissing his cheek, tasting the salt of his tears.  
  
"Can't," he only choked out, again trying to suppress a sob but failing.  
  
Mac felt her own composure weaken, being completely clueless why her love was hurting. "Please, Harm, let me help you. I'm still your best friend, remember?"  
  
"I couldn't bear losing you, Mac," he whispered, still not daring to face her.  
  
Puzzled, Mac tightened her embrace, moving closer. "I already told you on the admiral's porch that, no matter what, you won't lose me," she answered softly, resting her forehead against his cheek. "What makes you think you will ever get rid of me, sailor?"  
  
He drew a shaky breath, seemingly forcing himself to speak. "I might never again be the man you married, Sarah," he said, his voice uneven and strained.  
  
At once she understood where his statement was headed. "Oh, Harm..." she only managed to whisper before her own tears made their way to the surface. She cried silently for a few moments, sharing his grief, but feeling relieved at the same time that they were facing a problem that she was sure they could overcome. He had always been strong for her. Now it was her turn. Gathering her resolve, she turned him onto his left side to face her, quickly wiping away her tears. Then she reached out and caressed away some of his tears as well. "You are all I need, Harm, and you'll always be. You returned to your normal self the moment you moved that eyelid in front of me. I can't even begin to describe what I felt then. It was as if I'd gotten back the air that I needed to breathe."  
  
Harm closed his eyes against the fresh pain that was invading his heart at her words. "Mac, I can't bear the thought of depending so entirely on you." His voice was barely more than a whisper. "I wanted to be the one to give you the home and family you never had, and now it's you who have to provide for me and Trisha."  
  
"Harm, I don't care!" she contradicted almost violently. "As long as I have your mind, your thoughts, your love, your support, your... your..." she stopped, agitated. Drawing a deep breath to calm down, she continued. "It's your inside that I love. And I thank God that, no matter to what degree you get your physical abilities back, He gave me back your company. You and I are going to watch our daughter grow up. Isn't that the greatest gift that we could ever get?"  
  
Tentatively Harm reached out for her and returned her embrace. His feelings were in turmoil. Only one single thought emerged from the whirlwind that his mind had turned into: 'God, from the bottom of my heart I thank You for this woman at my side.' He held on to her for several long moments until he felt he could think straight again. And instantly part of his fear returned. She told him now that she loved him, but would she still do so in twenty years if he couldn't be what she had wanted him to be when they got married? "Maybe I'll never be able to watch out for you," he whispered, "Maybe I'll never walk my daughter down the aisle. Maybe I'll never give you another child. Maybe..." his voice went lower still, "Maybe I'll never be able to love you again, Sarah..." he let his voice trail off, not trusting it to any more words.  
  
Mac was unable to stand his grief, it was tearing at her heart. It was so unlike Harm to give up on himself, and it scared her beyond recognition. Didn't he know by now that, even if she wanted to, she'd never be able to walk away from him? Didn't he know that her heart was tied to his in a bond that no one had ever been able to break the whole time that she had known him? Seeing him lie there, helplessly lost in his despair, she understood that she needed to prove to him that he still was the man she had married, that he hadn't changed, and that, in time, he would be everything he wanted to be for her. And she needed to prove it now. Praying for strength, she cupped his face.  
  
"Listen to me," she said softly, trying a slight smile. "You've surprised everyone around here with your efforts to get back to normal. You managed to accomplish things that others could only dream of. Try to think back to your ramp strike. Did you get back on track that quickly back then? Tell me, did you?"  
  
"No," he whispered, his expression unreadable. "But I didn't have you, Sarah."  
  
'Thank you, God, he trusts me to this,' she sent another silent prayer heavenward. Softly caressing his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes, his lips, she went on. "Then let me help you, Harm. Let me prove to you that you are all you could ever be to me."  
  
"How do you think you can do that?" he asked, his eyes still closed.  
  
"Trust me," she only said as she quickly removed her nightgown. He started when he felt her tug at his t-shirt. His eyelids flew open and she could read fear in his eyes as he understood what she was planning to do, fear to fail and disappoint her.  
  
"Mac, I can't..."  
  
She only smiled reassuringly, disposing of his clothes and moving close to him. She cupped his face and felt him tremble as she slowly and deeply kissed him. Drawing back, she looked into his eyes, seeing that the fear had made way for hope and uneasiness that were fighting a battle inside his mind. "Trust me, Harm," she only repeated before kissing him afresh, giving a little jump of joy as she felt his trembling hands starting to shyly caress her back.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Sixteen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part fifteen:  
  
'Thank you, God, he trusts me to this,' she sent another silent prayer heavenward. Softly caressing his cheeks, his forehead, his closed eyes, his lips, she went on. "Then let me help you, Harm. Let me prove to you that you are all you could ever be to me."  
  
"How do you think you can do that?" he asked, his eyes still closed.  
  
"Trust me," she only said as she quickly removed her nightgown. He started when he felt her tug at his t-shirt. His eyelids flew open and she could read fear in his eyes as he understood what she was planning to do, fear to fail and disappoint her.  
  
"Mac, I can't..."  
  
She only smiled reassuringly, disposing of his clothes and moving close to him. She cupped his face and felt him tremble as she slowly and deeply kissed him. Drawing back, she looked into his eyes, seeing that the fear had made way for hope and uneasiness that were fighting a battle inside his mind. "Trust me, Harm," she only repeated before kissing him afresh, giving a little jump of joy as she felt his trembling hands starting to shyly caress her back.  
  
  
  
Part Sixteen:  
  
Thu, March 4th 1103 ZULU The Sims' bedroom The Sims' mountain cabin Allegheny Mountains, WVA  
  
  
  
Her inner clock told Mac that she should get up and get dressed, considering she had to cover quite a distance to arrive in court. Luckily, the trial had been set up for 1100 so she had at least been able to sleep until now. And she thanked Sturgis on her knees who had arranged for a helicopter to take her to D.C.  
  
She really felt reluctant to get up right now. The remnants of the fire were still glowing in the fireplace, and she felt Harm's even breathing cause the hair at the back of her head to move slightly. His arms encircled her firmly and his warm skin felt very soft and velvety against her back. Mac kept her eyes closed, determined to steal a few more moments before giving in and getting up. All this was so perfect.  
  
What had started out hesitantly and shyly the night before yesterday, had risen to emotional completion last night. Passion and loving fulfillment were back in full in their relationship and she and Harm had relished in the emotions they were once again able to share. Of course Harm was still enormously handicapped, his range of movements being limited to his arms mostly, but they had found ways to overcome the rift and had once again joined into a union that felt like their first time ever.  
  
The psychological effects of Mac's gentle efforts to get Harm's self- confidence up again had already shown yesterday. He had been serene all day, had let her and Fred work out their defense strategy by themselves, busying himself with his physical training. When she helped him shower, he had actually started to whistle, giving her her full share of knee- weakening smiles. And last night had been wonderful. It had, in many ways, reminded her of their weekend at the Waldorf Astoria, back in June. Smiling, Mac remembered how Harm's warm glance had gotten all misty last night when she had been lying quietly in his arms, reveling in the afterglow of their lovemaking, smiling at him without holding back how happy she was.  
  
Sighing inwardly, she tried carefully to wriggle out of her husband's embrace without waking him, but failed. He opened his eyes, smiled tenderly at her and pulled her close once again.  
  
"Good morning, my favorite Marine," he softly whispered, kissing her on the lips.  
  
"Good morning to you too, sailor," she answered with a smile, not objecting as he held on to her.  
  
"Showtime, right?" he asked with an upraised eyebrow.  
  
"Yeah." Her voice was soft, yet determined and optimistic. "I really feel like kicking Krennick's six today." She grinned.  
  
"That's my ninja-girl," he smiled, pressing his lips to her temple. "And I'll love watching it on TV, although I despise the Secnav for allowing the court-martial to be broadcast. Let's go then, Colonel. I'll see you in court. Mac?" he added, sobering.  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"You and Fred will do great. I know it. I have faith in you, and I'm sure the admiral does, too. You go, girl. I love you."  
  
Mac smiled. "Thanks, flyboy. I feel calm and prepared but it feels good to know that you care. I love you, too." She quickly but tenderly kissed him once again, got up, took her uniform and vanished into the bathroom.  
  
  
  
Thu, March 4th 1556 ZULU Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
Captain Allison Krennick was feeling uneasy and hated herself for it. Or more so, she hated Mackenzie and Prumetti for getting her into this state of mind in the first place. Until two days ago, she had been confident that she had a firm case, based on facts. Her chain of evidence had seemed immune to any questioning and the prosecution's witnesses were all well prepared. She had actually looked forward to ripping Mackenzie apart in court. Until she had opened her mail yesterday morning. When she had first skimmed through the pages of the file defense had sent to her, she had immediately gotten an indistinct gut feeling that her case was going to blow. She wasn't really able to get to the bottom of why she felt this way, because all this Minton Greenwood/Branwick stuff still didn't prove that the admiral had nothing to do with Doctor Walden's death. But she knew that his friends wouldn't have bothered to go so far into detail if there weren't a point to it. Trouble was, Allison didn't really have an idea what point that might be.  
  
Of course she saw the possible connection between Sydney's discoveries and her being murdered to silence her. And she had understood why Mackenzie dragged the Branwick case into the picture. There was a motive. But that still didn't offer any hints as to who actually killed the doctor. Mackenzie had to know that the prosecution would do everything in their power to dismiss the facts as irrelevant. So why would she introduce them in the first place? True, this wasn't the first time that Allison had to face evidence previously unknown to her in a trial, and usually she wasn't afraid of the situation, trusting her abilities as a tough lawyer. But - to her utter dismay - she had to admit to herself that if there was anyone that she couldn't be sure to beat in the courtroom, it was the Rabbs. And in this case, Harm was the wild card, which was even more dangerous.  
  
Allison had choked on her coffee when she had come across his name on the defense's witness list that for some reason was to be kept confidential yet. She had no idea how they intended to question a comatose person. But she knew that Mackenzie was serious about it if she put him on the list. Krennick had immediately called the hospital but had only been told that the commander was no longer a patient. She had thought of objecting to Harm as a witness because she had been unable to question him beforehand. But, truth be told, she was clueless what she could have asked him anyway. He had been out of it for most of the time and he was listed only as investigator to the Branwick case. All information regarding the affair, including Harm's statement how he had discovered the evidence, was included in the file. What more was there to know? On that ground, objecting to Harm would have seemed as if she were frightened to face him, and that she would never have let happen. But still it bothered her that he would take the stand. Allison hated, hated, hated being at a loss, especially if Harm was involved. Damn.  
  
She turned when she heard the courtroom doors open. Admiral Chegwidden was being led in by two guards, followed by his lawyers. Everyone on the defense's side wore a perfectly neutral expression on their faces. This fact caused the uneasiness Krennick was feeling to deepen even more. What were they hiding? Mackenzie looked damned good, though, she had to admit. Once again, Krennick's jealousy and hurt pride surfaced. When Mac nodded her a cool greeting, she only glared back coldly. She would bring this woman down, she swore to herself. 'Come on, Allison, you can do it.'  
  
Mac was slightly taken aback at the open display of hostility in the blond captain's expression. But it produced the opposite effect of what had been the intention. 'So be it, Krennick,' Mac thought grimly. 'We're at war then. But let me just tell you three things: first, you never even had a chance with Harm, you know that and I know that and we're both aware that this is what your anger comes down to. Second, you're being highly unprofessional, letting your anger cloud your judgment, 'ma'am'. And third: frankly, you don't have a chance today. I'm sorry. That is - no, actually I'm not.'  
  
AJ had witnessed the exchange between the two women, trying hard to hide his smile. He leaned over to Mac when they had sat down. "Would you do me a favor and not turn this into a sequel to 'Death becomes her', Colonel?" he whispered, not hiding the amusement in his voice.  
  
Mac's mouth twitched as she replied very low. "That's Krennick's take on the affair, not mine, sir. And I intend to keep it that way, especially with Trial TV present." She slightly motioned her head in the direction of one of the cameras. "You know, we have an advantage here, sir. I'm sort of accustomed to this. And if the public liked me when I prosecuted they're gonna love me now that I defend."  
  
AJ tried to maintain his composure, looking down to intently study his fingernails.  
  
  
  
Same time The Sims' mountain cabin Allegheny Mountains, WVA  
  
  
  
"You should really decide what you want to do, big brother," Sergei tried for the third time to reason with Harm. "Either you practice or you watch TV. Mac's going to kill me if you hurt yourself just because you're not paying attention to your exercises."  
  
Harm just looked at Sergei, exasperated. "Sorry for being this rude, boy, but just shut up, okay?" He gave him a frowning half-grin that indicated that he knew his brother was only concerned for his well-being.  
  
"Come over here, Sergeant," Jeannine said from the couch. "If he's half as stubborn as you - well, actually I know he beats you at that - you won't stand a chance trying to dissuade him from what he wants to do. So why don't you just sit down and enjoy watching Mac tear that Krennick bitch to pieces? Our transport to D.C. will be here in two hours anyway."  
  
Sighing, Sergei flopped down beside his girlfriend. "You're right, Janutchka. Let him kill himself if he likes to. I have a medical insurance now so there won't be a problem when I meet with Mac." He shot his brother a quick grin and found it returned, accompanied by a slight chuckle.  
  
Just then, Trial TV broadcasted its opening credits. They all turned their attention to the TV set, Jeannine and Sergei trying to ignore the suppressed panting that came from behind them as Harm continued to torture himself.  
  
["Ladies and gentlemen, let me welcome you today to our live broadcast from Falls Church, Virginia. We're proud that, three years after our transmission of the Misty-James case, we're once again broadcasting a Navy court-martial to you, and not just an ordinary one. The accused who is charged with murder in the first degree is none other than the Navy's top lawyer himself, the Judge Advocate General, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden. We'll also meet with a familiar face that we still hold in the highest esteem after her exemplary performance last time. Having changed sides and taken the defense of her commanding officer, Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie will guarantee for breathtaking courtroom action.  
  
Since we last saw her, a lot has gone on in her private life, too. The colonel is now married to Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr., whom ZBS viewers remember from last year's outstanding government charity concert, and she has a daughter that is barely ten days old. Nevertheless, she refused to be replaced as defense counsel, wanting to represent her CO herself. But as many of you will have heard from the press, Col. Rabb is under additional emotional pressure right now, her husband having been shot two weeks ago. He is currently in a coma. Still,"]  
  
images of Mac entering the building were shown,  
  
["The colonel does not flinch and is ready and willing to do her duty."]  
  
"This is disgusting!" Jeannine exclaimed.  
  
"Last time was worse," Harm replied. "This time Mac at least hasn't yet been discussed on any talk shows."  
  
The speaker went on, while pictures of Krennick were broadcast.  
  
["And like last time, Col. Rabb will have to face a powerful opponent, a female Navy lawyer who is her superior in rank and known to be a tough prosecutor: Captain Allison Krennick, actually a former working partner of the colonel's husband. According to our source inside the JAG corps, we can even expect something like personal rivalry regarding the commander between the two first chairs."]  
  
"It is worse now," Jeannine commented dryly, employing sarcasm in order to hold her fury in check.  
  
"Next time Singer crosses my path she's a dead lawyer," Harm swore through gritted teeth.  
  
Sergei just stared. Sometimes he still found it difficult to understand his fellow American citizens.  
  
  
  
Same time Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
On the bailiff's signal, all rose as Judge Amy Helfman and the jury members entered the room. Mac exchanged quick reassuring glances with a slightly pale but determined Fred and with a slightly frowning but calm admiral. When everyone had settled down again, Captain Helfman addressed the room.  
  
"Good morning. The case that will be tried today in front of this board is People versus Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the Navy. I remind the staff of Trial TV to kindly stay within the areas designed for filming and to regard the rules of propriety while documenting this court-martial. Thank you. The charges brought forth against Admiral Chegwidden are assault and murder in the first degree." Helfman turned to the defense. "How does the accused plead?"  
  
Chegwidden and his lawyers rose. "Not guilty, your honor," AJ stated clearly and calmly.  
  
"The accused pleads 'not guilty'," Helfman repeated for protocol and then turned to the prosecution's desk. "Would the prosecution please begin with their opening argument? Captain Krennick?"  
  
Krennick rose, squared her shoulders and self-confidently stepped in front of the jury, casting a quick glance in the direction of the nearest camera. "Good morning. The facts in this case are clear. Prosecution is going to prove that the accused, Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, on February 14th went to the victim's, Doctor Sydney Walden's, house, allowed himself be let in by the victim and stabbed her with a kitchen knife. We are also going to prove that Admiral Chegwidden had a motive to kill Doctor Walden, fully aware of the consequences of the crime. We will prove that Admiral Chegwidden is guilty of murder in the first degree. Thank you." Barely a hint of an icy smile tugged at the corners of Krennick's mouth as she rounded her table and sat down again, exchanging a quick look with an apparently confident Lt. Hobbes at her side.  
  
"Thank you, Captain," Helfman went on. "Defense?"  
  
Mac took a deep breath, let her Marine pride show in the way she raised her chin and calmly walked over to confront the jury. "Good morning." Subconsciously she was aware of the soft humming of a camera's zoom that focused on her face. But she didn't consider it disturbing. 'Use the sympathies you gain from this, Mackenzie,' she told herself as she let her expression soften a nuance without letting go of her determination. "A man receives a phone call from a friend he hasn't seen in a long time," she began, adding the slightest dose of warmth and sex appeal to her cool matter-of-fact voice. Fred suddenly envied her for being a woman and being able to play with male senses.  
  
Mac went on in her near-to-gentle tone. "He is surprised when the caller, a woman, asks for his help, but as a gentleman, he offers it and agrees to meet her at her house as she wants him to. Upon his arrival, he finds the door open, goes in and finds the woman dying from stab wounds. He understands he can't do anything for her and decides not to leave her side while she dies. Her son comes in and arrives at the wrong conclusions. These," Mac paused, letting an intense glance wander from member to member, "Are the facts in this case, plain and clear. These facts should already suffice to fully dismiss the charges but," again she paused, straightening her body and sharpening her voice, letting out the tough Marine counselor, "Defense will not limit the case to this.  
  
"We will produce evidence to show that Doctor Sydney Walden's life had been threatened before. We will prove that Doctor Walden acquired knowledge about an environmental crime that made her patients suffer from testicular germ cell cancer. We will prove that this knowledge made Doctor Walden a threat to other projects of the consortium the criminal firm belongs to. And we will prove that, for this knowledge and her obvious intent to seek help by disclosing it to the accused, Doctor Sydney Walden was killed in order to silence her the moment before Admiral Chegwidden reached her house." Once again Mac let a moment of silence pass, meeting the glance of each and every member of the board, hoping for the effect her huge dark eyes usually had on others. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, clear and professionally well-pronounced. "AJ Chegwidden is not guilty of the murder he is charged with. Thank you." Mac exercised a slow, elegant turn on her heel and walked over to her seat, noticing the barely visible expression of pride on AJ's features.  
  
"Thank you, Colonel Rabb." Judge Helfman was glad that she always had excellent control over her face. Otherwise her inward relief about the colonel's by-the-book performance would have shown clearly. But she silently admitted to herself that - had she been allowed to - her smile would exactly mirror that of the TV director sitting opposite to her who was all but doing the happy dance about a one-in-a-million moment of courtroom TV.  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback highly appreciated!) 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Seventeen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part sixteen:  
  
Mac took a deep breath, let her Marine pride show in the way she raised her chin and calmly walked over to confront the jury. "Good morning." Subconsciously she was aware of the soft humming of a camera's zoom that focused on her face. But she didn't consider it disturbing. 'Use the sympathies you gain from this, Mackenzie,' she told herself as she let her expression soften a nuance without letting go of her determination. "A man receives a phone call from a friend he hasn't seen in a long time," she began, adding the slightest dose of warmth and sex appeal to her cool matter-of-fact voice. Fred suddenly envied her for being a woman and being able to play with male senses.  
  
Mac went on in her near-to-gentle tone. "He is surprised when the caller, a woman, asks for his help, but as a gentleman, he offers it and agrees to meet her at her house as she wants him to. Upon his arrival, he finds the door open, goes in and finds the woman dying from stab wounds. He understands he can't do anything for her and decides not to leave her side while she dies. Her son comes in and arrives at the wrong conclusions. These," Mac paused, letting an intense glance wander from member to member, "Are the facts in this case, plain and clear. These facts should already suffice to fully dismiss the charges but," again she paused, straightening her body and sharpening her voice, letting out the tough Marine counselor, "Defense will not limit the case to this.  
  
"We will produce evidence to show that Doctor Sydney Walden's life had been threatened before. We will prove that Doctor Walden acquired knowledge about an environmental crime that made her patients suffer from testicular germ cell cancer. We will prove that this knowledge made Doctor Walden a threat to other projects of the consortium the criminal firm belongs to. And we will prove that, for this knowledge and her obvious intent to seek help by disclosing it to the accused, Doctor Sydney Walden was killed in order to silence her the moment before Admiral Chegwidden reached her house." Once again Mac let a moment of silence pass, meeting the glance of each and every member of the board, hoping for the effect her huge dark eyes usually had on others. When she finally spoke, her voice was low, clear and professionally well-pronounced. "AJ Chegwidden is not guilty of the murder he is charged with. Thank you." Mac exercised a slow, elegant turn on her heel and walked over to her seat, noticing the barely visible expression of pride on AJ's features.  
  
"Thank you, Colonel Rabb." Judge Helfman was glad that she always had excellent control over her face. Otherwise her inward relief about the colonel's by-the-book performance would have shown clearly. But she silently admitted to herself that - had she been allowed to - her smile would exactly mirror that of the TV director sitting opposite to her who was all but doing the happy dance about a one-in-a-million moment of courtroom TV.  
  
  
  
Part Seventeen:  
  
Thu, March 4th 1621 ZULU Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
"Would the prosecution call their first witness, please."  
  
Krennick rose again. "Prosecution calls Petty Officer Third Class Daniel Walden to the stand."  
  
The heavy oak doors opened and Danny Walden entered the room. He made a beeline for the witness stand, pointedly not looking at the admiral or his defense counsels.  
  
Krennick smiled encouragingly as she approached him. "Please raise your hand. P.O. Walden, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?"  
  
"I swear."  
  
"Please, take a seat. Would you state your name and current position for the record?"  
  
"Petty Officer Third Class Daniel Walden, ma'am, currently stationed aboard the USS Coral Sea."  
  
Krennick made sure she stood at a convenient angle for the nearby camera when she let her expression turn compassionate. She had witnessed in a barely contained fury how Mac had wrapped the entire public around her finger before, and although Allison somehow knew that her rather cold blue eyes could never stand a chance against those sensual brown pools of Mac's, she was nevertheless determined to make her own abilities in handling the public match Mac's. "Petty Officer, first of all let me say that we are all infinitely sorry for the great loss you suffered with your mother's death."  
  
Danny nodded grimly. "Thank you, ma'am."  
  
"Please, Mr. Walden, tell us: were you at home the afternoon of February 14th?"  
  
"I was on leave and just about to return to my mother's house, ma'am."  
  
"What happened upon your arrival?"  
  
Danny swallowed. "When I arrived, ma'am, I wondered why the door was slightly ajar. I entered the house and saw my mother dying in the entrance hall."  
  
"Was there anyone with her?" Krennick ventured cautiously.  
  
"Yes, ma'am." Danny indicated the admiral with his right hand. "Him."  
  
"For the record: witness points to the accused," Krennick stated. "Can you describe the situation, Petty Officer?"  
  
"She... she was lying in her blood, ma'am, and the admiral was covered all over with it. He held her head on his lap. The knife had been tossed away. When I entered, Admiral Chegwidden looked up and met my glance."  
  
"What did his expression look like, Mr. Walden? Did he show signs of guilt or a bad conscience?"  
  
"Objection!" Mac sprung to her feet. "Calls for speculation."  
  
Judge Helfman raised an eyebrow at Krennick. "Sustained."  
  
"I'm sorry, your honor. I'll rephrase." Krennick mentally kicked herself. "Petty Officer: Can you describe the look on the admiral's face?"  
  
"Objection!" Mac called again. "Relevance?"  
  
Helfman frowned. "I'll allow it. Answer the question, Petty Officer."  
  
Danny nodded. "Yes, your honor. He looked haunted and guilty."  
  
Krennick's thin, icy smile was up again. "Was there anyone else present at the time, or did you notice anything that could have caused your mother's death?"  
  
Danny firmly met her glance. "No, ma'am."  
  
Krennick feigned a thoughtful expression. "Tell me, Mr. Walden, on what terms were the accused and your mother by the time of her death?"  
  
"Objection! Hearsay," Mac probed, knowing that this would probably be overruled.  
  
Krennick spoke up at once. "Your honor, Mr. Walden is the victim's only son. He is very likely to know about his mother's private life."  
  
Mac nevertheless contradicted. "Your honor, by the time the crime occurred, Mr. Walden had been living on an aircraft carrier for several months without home leave."  
  
Helfman considered Mac's point, but then decided against it. "Overruled, I'll allow it. But please, Captain, don't drag this out too much."  
  
"No, your honor," Krennick replied, content. "What was the relationship between the admiral and your mother, Petty Officer?" she asked again.  
  
Danny frowned, seeming disgusted. "They used to date a few years ago, but the admiral took too much interest in things that were none of his business, and my mother eventually ended the relationship. They haven't been on friendly terms since then. And the admiral used to snoop around about me. My mother told him to keep his nose out of our business and he was angry about it."  
  
Krennick decided to push it further. "Do you think that Admiral Chegwidden's grudge against your mother might have caused him to eventually kill her?"  
  
"Objection!" Mac called.  
  
"Withdrawn. No further questions." Krennick nonchalantly turned to Mac. "Your witness."  
  
As the captain took her place, Mac rose. "Petty Officer Walden: you said that the admiral took interest in things that were none of his business. Isn't it so that those 'things' were the admiral's car that he had lent to you and that was found with a considerable amount of Marihuana in it? And that you were convicted for drug dealing?"  
  
"Objection, relevance?" Krennick tried.  
  
"I'm trying to prove that the admiral actually did take interest in things that concerned him, entitling him to inquire. That will clear the defendant of the reproach of being overly curious."  
  
"I'll allow it. Objection overruled. Petty Officer, please answer."  
  
Danny glared at Mac. "Yes to both, ma'am," he drawled.  
  
Mac inwardly sighed with relief and went on pointedly. "Petty Officer, did you see the admiral stab your mother with said knife?"  
  
"No, ma'am, I did not," Danny answered reluctantly.  
  
"Do you know who inflicted the stab wounds on your mother?"  
  
"I... think so, ma'am."  
  
"But you cannot be sure of it because you didn't see it?"  
  
"Objection!" Krennick called. "Defense is leading the witness."  
  
"Your honor," Mac cut in, "The witness already testified that he didn't see the admiral do it and that he didn't notice anyone else near the crime scene."  
  
Helfman nodded. "Objection overruled, captain. Please, answer the question, Mr. Walden."  
  
"So, you can't be sure who did it?" Mac asked again.  
  
Danny angrily frowned. "No, ma'am."  
  
"No further questions." Mac turned and, with a completely neutral expression on her face, went to sit down at AJ's side again.  
  
Helfman looked at Krennick. "Does the prosecution wish to redirect?"  
  
"No, your honor."  
  
"Thank you, Mr. Walden, you may step down."  
  
Danny did as he was told, this time shooting a glare in Mac's direction as he was led outside.  
  
"Prosecution calls Special Agent Colin Spearman." Krennick announced.  
  
Agent Spearman showed clear signs of uneasiness as he walked in front and was sworn in. Frowning, he took the stand.  
  
"Please state your name and current position for the record, Agent."  
  
"Special Agent Colin Spearman, Federal Bureau of Investigation."  
  
"Agent Spearman," Krennick tried a smile as she approached him, only to note with dismay that it didn't seem to produce any effect on the witness. "What is your connection with this case?"  
  
"I was in charge of the investigation until the JAG Corps took over, ma'am."  
  
"Could you explain to us what evidence you were able to find in Doctor Walden's house?"  
  
"As Mr. Walden already mentioned," Spearman's voice was warily neutral, "The victim lost a huge amount of blood, that was clearly visible on the carpet in the entrance hall. We found a butcher's knife approximately a yard away from the body."  
  
Krennick cut in. "Just a moment please," she went over to her desk, took a plastic bag and returned, showing the bag to Judge Helfman. "Your honor, prosecution exhibit A. Agent Spearman, is this the knife you found near Doctor Walden's body?"  
  
Spearman leaned slightly forward and studied the exhibit. "Yes, ma'am, that's it."  
  
"Did you have it checked for fingerprints?"  
  
"Yes, we did."  
  
"What did you find?"  
  
"Only one person's fingerprints were found on the knife besides Doctor Walden's, ma'am, Admiral Chegwidden's."  
  
"Did you check anything else for fingerprints, Agent?"  
  
"Yes, we did. As the door wasn't forced, we checked the doorbell and handle twice after the standard sweep had been done. Again there were no other fingerprints beside those of Sydney Walden and Admiral Chegwidden on them."  
  
"Did you notice anything else in the house that you considered of importance to the case?" Krennick's self-confidence showed clearly now. Mac tried to will away the growing uneasiness that was invading her stomach.  
  
Spearman shook his head. "No, ma'am. We saw no signs of a fight and found no other traces. Oh, but yes, two details, actually. First: footprints around the blood stains in the entrance hall. They matched Admiral Chegwidden's Valleverde shoes. And second: Doctor Walden must have been attacked near the living-room door and then gotten halfway through the entrance hall, already wounded, before she fell to the ground, by what the blood traces indicate."  
  
Krennick turned to Mac, not even bothering to hide her gloat. "Your witness, Colonel." The TV director subconsciously rubbed her hands. Real life soap dish. She loved it.  
  
Mac rose. "Thank you, ma'am," she said amiably, being all politeness. AJ tried hard to stifle his grin that threatened to break through despite the evidence given against him.  
  
"Agent Spearman," Mac leisurely approached the FBI agent, "Can you be absolutely certain that there were no other traces in the house?"  
  
"Next to certain, ma'am."  
  
"But not entirely certain?"  
  
"No, ma'am. At times we may miss something."  
  
"Thank you, no further questions." Mac sat down again.  
  
"Does the prosecution wish to redirect?" Helfman asked.  
  
"No, your honor."  
  
"Thank you, Agent Spearman, you may step down," Judge Helfman released him.  
  
"Prosecution calls Doctor Beverly Hancock to the stand."  
  
Again the oak doors opened and an elegant middle-aged woman entered the room. Having been sworn in, she took the stand.  
  
"Please state your name and current position for the record."  
  
"Beverly Hancock, MD, coroner with the DCPD." Fred involuntarily raised his eyebrows. 'She looks more like one of those Mary-Kay women to me.'  
  
Krennick approached her. "Doctor Hancock, you did the autopsy on Doctor Walden's body, is that correct?"  
  
"That is correct." Hancock's voice was warm and velvety, making it seem even stranger that she would be around corpses all day for a living.  
  
"What did Sydney Walden die from, Doctor?" Krennick asked.  
  
"She died from multiple stab wounds to her abdomen and chest that perforated several inner organs, specifically the stomach, liver and lungs."  
  
Mac felt Chegwidden wince next to her. Under the table she put a soothing hand on her CO's thigh, not for a single moment thinking about the impropriety of the gesture. After a few seconds, AJ seemed to relax.  
  
Krennick took the knife in the plastic bag and showed it to Hancock. "Could this be the knife that caused the wounds?"  
  
"Objection!" Mac shouted. "Speculative."  
  
"Your honor," Krennick countered, "Witness is an expert in forensic pathology. She is able to tell us if the knife's form and blade fit the wounds found on Doctor Walden's body."  
  
"Overruled. Answer the question, please."  
  
"Yes, a knife of the type very probably caused the lethal wounds," the coroner stated calmly.  
  
"Were there other things to be noticed about the body, such as signs of a fight or something, drug remnants in her blood?"  
  
"No, none that I could recall."  
  
"No further questions, your honor."  
  
Helfman looked at Mac. "Colonel Rabb?"  
  
"No, your honor."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor Hancock, you may step down. Does prosecution intend to call any more witnesses?"  
  
"No, your honor."  
  
Helfman inwardly sighed. She hated this case. "Court is in recess until 1400 when defense may call their witnesses." The gavel fell and immediately the noise level rose considerably, as people were streaming out of the room, eagerly discussing the events.  
  
Chegwidden turned to Mac. "You did well, Colonel."  
  
Mac gave him a strained smile. "Not as well as I should have, I fear. I couldn't find anything to disarm the last witness."  
  
Fred cleared his throat, looking at the admiral. "If I may, sir?"  
  
AJ nodded.  
  
"There was nothing you could have done about it, ma'am. I'd say we let it rest and go out and get some lunch. What do you say?"  
  
Mac looked at the admiral, unsure.  
  
AJ smiled. "You need to be fed, Colonel, before you let loose that firework of yours that I've been looking forward to ever since I heard your opening argument. So, go and grab a bite, you two. I'll be taken good care of." With a wry smile, he motioned for the guards who approached to lead him outside.  
  
Mac sighed and tried a smile, frowning slightly as, through the opening doors, she became aware of the herd of reporters that were lingering in front of the courtroom, waiting for their statement. "Okay, Fred, let's enter the lion's den and earn our lunch."  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Part Eighteen Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part seventeen:  
  
Chegwidden turned to Mac. "You did well, Colonel."  
  
Mac gave him a strained smile. "Not as well as I should have, I fear. I couldn't find anything to disarm the last witness."  
  
Fred cleared his throat, looking at the admiral. "If I may, sir?"  
  
AJ nodded.  
  
"There was nothing you could have done about it, ma'am. I'd say we let it rest and go out and get some lunch. What do you say?"  
  
Mac looked at the admiral, unsure.  
  
AJ smiled. "You need to be fed, Colonel, before you let loose that firework of yours that I've been looking forward to ever since I heard your opening argument. So, go and grab a bite, you two. I'll be taken good care of." With a wry smile, he motioned for the guards who approached to lead him outside.  
  
Mac sighed and tried a smile, frowning slightly as, through the opening doors, she became aware of the herd of reporters that were lingering in front of the courtroom, waiting for their statement. "Okay, Fred, let's enter the lion's den and earn our lunch."  
  
  
  
Part Eighteen:  
  
Thu, March 4th 2037 ZULU Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
They had a strong case. AJ leaned back rather comfortably in his chair and quietly watched the proceedings. If things went on like they did now, the trial was likely to be finished rather quickly. The admiral had gone through a roller-coaster ride of different feelings during the day. Anger, satisfaction, frustration, malicious joy... but most of all pride. The JAG had never in his life felt so proud of any of his subordinates as he had of Mac and Fred during this trial. 'Okay,' he admitted to himself, 'Maybe Rabb and Turner play in the same league, due to their stunt with that dirty missile back in Afghanistan. And for the concerts Rabb did last year. And maybe I can add Roberts and Harriet to the list for the way they dealt with Bud's injury. And maybe...' At that point he had stopped counting.  
  
Once again, AJ Chegwidden marveled at the extraordinary staff he had under his command. But be that as it may - Mac and Fred were doing an awesome job today, defending him. Their strategy was worth the Pulitzer Prize. No TV director could have done better building suspense and getting people to hang on their own and their witnesses' lips. At one point, AJ had felt more like he was watching a Grisham movie than following his own trial. And he was sure the public - and the panel - would feel the same way.  
  
Mac and Fred had started out rather unorthodoxly. Defense's very first witness to be called to the stand had been... AJ Chegwidden himself. Mac had let Fred do the job, and, very much like back at Carnegie Hall, the lieutenant had proven himself to be an expert on stage. AJ had noticed that everyone in the room, except himself, Mac and Helfman, had more or less openly shown their surprise when Fred had begun his interrogation. Firstly, of course, due to Fred's impeccable Scottish intonation.  
  
But secondly, and even more so, because of the sudden change that the shy and unsure lieutenant seemed to undergo as soon as he stepped up to ask his questions. Fred was pacing up and down slowly in front of the stand, thoughtfully and calmly pausing each time he introduced a new topic, using his warm, light baritone voice to make the public feel they could trust him without any doubts. No objection whatsoever that Lt. Hobbes could have thrown in seemed to really shake Fred's countenance. He presented himself as a witty, quick-thinking, if necessary sharp, but always considerate and unperturbed expert examiner. And it quickly became clear to everyone that Lt. j.g. Federico Prumetti from Venice was an authority to be reckoned with.  
  
The admiral could - of course - easily recognize the Rabbs' tutoring in Fred's style of examination. Mac's clear, no-nonsense straightforwardness met with Harm's intuition that let him guess rather than plan the fitting questions for every situation. 'Admiral Della Rosa is one lucky guy,' AJ thought, inwardly sighing. 'Maybe he doesn't know yet but with Fred on his staff he has one of the biggest negotiating talents that I've ever come by.'  
  
Fred had let AJ tell his version of the story first, asking for every detail that might become important later on. Then, when he could be sure of his public's curiosity and of their willingness to doubt the seemingly clear evidence against the admiral, Fred had gotten into personal matters between him and Sydney. AJ had answered calmly, with every fiber of his body impersonating the thoughtful and caring commanding officer that, frankly, to no one in the public seemed capable of committing a crime like the one he was being charged with. Whenever Hobbes had tried to lure him into showing anger or contradicting his statements regarding both, the case or his past relationship with Sydney, AJ had come out of the questioning with his head uplifted. He was innocent. All he had to do was tell the truth. And that was exactly what he did.  
  
Once people had gotten the intended impression of the admiral, Fred called defense's next witnesses. Step by step, he allowed people glimpses of the bigger picture the real crime was set in. Fred managed to introduce the scheme without giving the prosecution the slightest possibility to object to his line of questioning, for he always kept his questions closely related to the initial murder. When AJ stepped down from the stand, Fred first called Stephanie Beacham, Sydney's nurse. She related how she found the file hidden in the garden tool cabinet and she was able to supply the results of the laboratory that had analyzed the samples that Sydney had taken, labeling them as contaminated with dimethylformamide. And she testified that Sydney had indeed seemed worried about something during the last days before her assassination.  
  
Fred then called Doctor Kevin Sayer, who had taken over Sydney's medical practice, at least for the time being. The urologist first explained what documents were assembled in the folder Stephanie had found. Then he testified to the effects the chemical had on the human body, the severest consequence being a strong inclination to cause testicular germ cell cancer. Judge Helfman had granted Fred a little leeway to put together the complex picture he was constructing, being intrigued herself at least as much as the public that was slowly getting very excited. More than once Krennick tried to put a stop to Fred's line of questioning when Hobbes had failed to do so. But Fred always managed to draw a direct line from his questions to the initial case that was being tried. So Helfman couldn't do anything but let him go on with his strategy.  
  
After Sayer, it was Casey Crane's turn. She related how she had gone out to the site where the barrels had been found in the woods. She identified a Minton-Greenwood label as one of those that she had found on the abandoned barrels due to a missing edge that she herself had ripped off when she removed the label from the barrel. Then she pointed out how the chemical would enter the drinking-water circulation once the barrels were leaking. At this point, Krennick again objected to the whole line of questioning, arguing that there might well be a connection between Sydney's findings and the waste disposal firm, but claiming that defense still lacked a real motive for the murder, should it have been anyone else than the admiral to have allegedly killed her.  
  
Fred's reply to her objection came as patient as ever. "Your honor, defense plans on getting to the motive during the examination of our next witness, Mrs. Kristen Cramer-Bernstein, general manager of Minton Greenwood Inc."  
  
Helfman frowned. She was being too indulgent but she had to admit that she was just as curious as anyone else inside and outside the courtroom to know the outcome of the defense's audacious theory. "Let me admonish you one last time, Lieutenant, not to wear out my and the jurors' patience. Can you guarantee that your next witness will enlighten us as to the motive?"  
  
"Yes, your honor," Fred acknowledged firmly.  
  
"Your honor..." Krennick indignantly cut in but was cut off by the judge.  
  
"Very well, I'll allow it, one last time. But I feel we might need a break. We'll have a recess of fifteen minutes and reconvene again at 1600. Court is in recess." The gavel fell.  
  
Fred returned to his seat and let himself fall onto it heavily, exhaling deeply. From close up, Mac could see that he had pearls of perspiration on his temples. "You okay, Fred?" she asked, slightly worried.  
  
He smiled wearily. "Yeah, I guess. But this is the most trying courtroom experience I've ever been through, ma'am."  
  
"But you put up one hell of an interrogation, Lieutenant. I'm deeply impressed." She smiled sincerely, making him blush.  
  
"Thank you, ma'am. This means a lot to me."  
  
"You're welcome," she replied, AJ nodding silent consent.  
  
  
  
Thu, March 4th 2102 ZULU Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
"Defense calls Mrs. Kristen Cramer-Bernstein to the stand," Fred announced.  
  
As the oak doors opened this time, Mac, as well as the admiral, had to fight the sudden urge to jump to their feet and go after the visitor that had slipped in behind Kristen. Mac gritted her teeth and for a moment squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to be patient. She had actually hoped she would come so she would get a really satisfactory revenge, but seeing Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer sit down quietly in the last row but one, after all she had done to Harm, threatened to blow Mac's composure into peaces. 'I swear to you, Cramer,' Mac silently told her, 'You're gonna feel sorry for yourself when you leave this room! We will nail your six and make you pay for everything you did to us. We will!'  
  
Meanwhile, Kristen had been sworn in and stated her current position as general manager of Minton Greenwood Inc. Fred stepped up to her.  
  
"Mrs. Bernstein," he said simply, holding up the label that Casey Crane had earlier identified as Minton Greenwood's. "Do you recognize this?"  
  
Kristen made no attempt at denying it. "Yes. It's one of the labels we use for our toxic waste barrels." Mac, from the corner of her eye, watched Maryann stare in front, her expression stony.  
  
"Do you," Fred went on, "Also recognize these?" He held up the folder of bills Jeannine had supplied from inside the firm. "Your honor, defense exhibit G. Here's the official search warrant that legalizes the document to be used in court. We had to keep it quiet for safety reasons. I apologize, your honor." He handed it to Helfman.  
  
Judge Helfman acknowledged in silence. Fred handed the folder to Kristen who thumbed through it, not fully succeeding in masking her astonishment.  
  
"Yes, Lieutenant. This is part of MG's correspondence with a firm that engaged us for clearing their toxic waste." Kristen's expression was neutral, but Mac noticed the way she tightly held on to the folder.  
  
"What's the name and branch of the firm, ma'am?"  
  
"Branwick Industries, aeronautical engineering."  
  
Fred's expression turned thoughtful. "Isn't Branwick Industries part of the same share holders' company as is Minton Greenwood?"  
  
"Objection!" Krennick called. "Relevance?"  
  
"Your honor, I'm trying to establish a motive. The following facts will be vital to our chain of evidence."  
  
"Overruled." Helfman's voice was just a little exasperated. "Get to the point, please, Lieutenant."  
  
"Who is the actual chairperson to the whole consortium?"  
  
"Nicholas Bernstein. My husband."  
  
"And who's the owner of Branwick Industries?"  
  
"I am. Together with my sister, Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer. The firm is in family property in the third generation." Kristen's voice let show traces of pride.  
  
Fred didn't acknowledge her last remark. "Do the consortium's firms share the same financing system?"  
  
"They do."  
  
"So, if, say, Minton Greenwood saved money by using illegal methods like dumping barrels in the woods, would other firms like, say, Branwick profit from that?"  
  
"Objection!" Krennick jumped to her feet.  
  
"Sustained. Watch your step, Lieutenant."  
  
"Yes, your honor."  
  
"We don't use illegal methods." Kristen was getting more reluctant to answer with every question Fred shot her.  
  
"Excuse me, Mrs. Bernstein, but you identified the label, we have an eye- witness as to where it derives from and Sydney Walden documented in her file how she witnessed the barrels being deposited. Your honor, defense exhibit H, an expert's report on the financial situation of Minton Greenwood, supplied by McKinsey Consulting, focusing on price calculations for MG's services regarding Branwick Industries. It reads, quote, 'The sums Minton Greenwood Inc. charged for their every-fourteen-days services to Branwick Industries are insufficient to even cover the necessary fuel expenses, assuming the locations and transport distances listed are correct.' unquote. Did MG favor Branwick Industries in the comparison with other firms? I remind you that you are under oath, Mrs. Bernstein." Fred's gaze was calm but icy.  
  
Kristen swallowed, obviously at a loss how to react. She sent a pleading look to Maryann who tried to signal something to her, but Kristen didn't seem to understand. Eventually she answered. "Yes." Her voice was low.  
  
"What projects is Branwick working on?"  
  
"I don't know."  
  
"Your honor, defense exhibit I, documents about a major order of aircraft engines the Navy bought from North Star Inc. It contains the exact technical data of the parts Branwick's main competitor produces. The material, that has been reported missing by the Naval Facilities Engineering Service Center, was found at Minton Greenwood and acknowledged authentic by the NFESC. Furthermore, defense exhibit J, here's a videocassette recorded by the NFESC's security cameras. It shows the witness's sister passing on the data in question to someone else." Stifled gasps were heard in the public. Maryann Cramer's face was carved in marble, it seemed.  
  
The lieutenant went on before Krennick got hold of her surprise and thought about objecting. "Mrs. Bernstein, these files that derive from the NFESC were found hidden under your desk. How do you explain that?"  
  
"Objection, the witness isn't on trial here." Krennick had shaken herself from her state of haze.  
  
"I'll rephrase," Fred corrected himself. He knew he maybe had one question left before the judge's indulgence would finally end. Better get it right. He frowned, thinking. "Mrs. Bernstein," he then addressed the already defeated woman in front of him, "We know that your sister, Lieutenant Commander Maryann Cramer, is one of the head engineers at NFESC and had access to the files in question. We also know that Branwick Industries illegally used dimethylformamide, a substance that has long since been proven carcinogenic, in their production processes, trying to save money in order to stay in the competition. Did Minton Greenwood, in trying to save money by illegally disposing of Branwick's toxic waste, try to support Branwick's efforts and did Doctor Sydney Walden's disclosures of the environmental crime critically endanger the whole consortium's joint venture to win the competition against North Star?"  
  
There was the motive. Everyone in the room was holding his breath.  
  
Kristen's mouth began to twitch. "Yes," she whispered, at the verge of crying.  
  
"Wouldn't that be enough of a motive to kill Doctor Walden before anyone else found out?" Fred asked, almost gently.  
  
"Objection!" Krennick had found her voice. "Defense leading the witness!"  
  
"Sustained."  
  
"No further questions, your honor." Fred quietly turned and sat down, thoroughly exhausted.  
  
"Captain Krennick?"  
  
"Not at the moment, your honor," came the slightly faint answer. Allison needed time to sort out her thoughts.  
  
  
  
Same time Outside the courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
"Are you really sure you're gonna make it?" Sergei's voice clearly let show his concern for his disabled brother.  
  
Harm gave him an encouraging smile. "Trust me, I will. I so badly want to get back at that Cramer bitch that I won't need any further motivation. Just stick to my side, will you?"  
  
"Sure." Sergei smiled and firmly blocked the brakes of Harm's wheelchair while Jeannine approached her boyfriend's brother, handing him a pair of crutches. In a joined effort, they managed to haul Harm onto his feet. Sergei quickly locked the knee joints of the splints that Harm wore under his uniform trousers. Jeannine straightened Harm's uniform and helped him take the crutches. Sergei observed the proceedings inside the courtroom on his little portable TV.  
  
"Fred just nailed Cramer's sister. It's show-time, big brother." He grinned in anticipation.  
  
"Harm, you look great." Jeannine flashed him a smile that he returned. "Now let's kick Maryann's sorry six. Come on!"  
  
Harm's heart was beating far harder than he liked as the courtroom doors slowly opened in front of him.  
  
  
  
Same time Courtroom JAG Headquarters Falls Church, VA  
  
  
  
The public as well as the TV team thought that they had already gotten more surprises today than they would ever have imagined. But the biggest was yet to come. Everyone barely managed to stifle their cries of surprise as Mac rose from her seat, expertly concealing her own trepidation, and announced:  
  
"Defense calls Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. to the stand."  
  
Maryann Cramer's head shot in her direction, her glare incredulous as well as furious. Mac calmly glared back, pinning her to her seat, as the big courtroom doors opened and every eye and lens in the room turned to the tall man in uniform that was supposed to be in a coma. The TV director stared, open-mouthed, as inside her head numbers for ratings and payment fees for commercials were dancing.  
  
Keenly aware of the fact that he was the center of all attention, Harm, with Sergei and Jeannine standing by at his sides in case he swayed, slowly and painfully pushed himself to walk up to the stand. But he was determined to do it alone. For Maryann to see that, again, she had failed. And for Mac, to thank her for being strong for him.  
  
Mac couldn't believe what she was seeing. Time seemed to freeze as Harm slowly walked towards her, his gaze firmly locked with hers. She didn't notice that the TV director motioned for the cameras to close up on the Rabbs' faces, the moment being too moving not to let the national public share it. As Harm went past Mac, he cast her the quickest of smiles before taking a firm stance in front of a frighteningly pale Krennick.  
  
"Com..." Allison's first attempt to swear Harm in failed as her voice left her. She embarrassedly cleared her throat and tried again. "Commander Rabb, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?"  
  
Harm turned his face to Mac as he answered, his words reminding him of another situation back in Venice when he had said them to no one else but her: "I do."  
  
  
  
To be continued... (Feedback always appreciated!) 


	19. Conclusion

Title: 'People vs. Chegwidden' - Conclusion Author: Daenar Disclaimer: See Part One  
  
  
  
From part eighteen:  
  
Mac couldn't believe what she was seeing. Time seemed to freeze as Harm slowly walked towards her, his gaze firmly locked with hers. She didn't notice that the TV director motioned for the cameras to close up on the Rabbs' faces, the moment being too moving not to let the national public share it. As Harm went past Mac, he cast her the quickest of smiles before taking a firm stance in front of a frighteningly pale Krennick.  
  
"Com..." Allison's first attempt to swear Harm in failed as her voice left her. She embarrassedly cleared her throat and tried again. "Commander Rabb, do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help you God?"  
  
Harm turned his face to Mac as he answered, his words reminding him of another situation back in Venice when he had said them to no one else but her: "I do."  
  
  
  
Part Nineteen - Conclusion:  
  
Mac took a deep breath as she walked up to Harm. The cameras once again closed up on their faces. "Commander Rabb, before your... accident you were defending Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer against charges of dereliction of duty. You had been appointed temporary JAG as Admiral Chegwidden was being detained and you investigated the Walden murder. Is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, Colonel Rabb." Harm inwardly grinned at hearing himself address Mac with his own name. It still felt wonderfully new to him.  
  
"Can you please tell us what happened on Thursday, February 18th?" 'I hope it won't be too painful,' Mac silently added.  
  
Harm frowned. "I had been trying all day to get a hold on the Walden case. I wasn't convinced by the evidence at hand that seemed to point in the admiral's direction. So I tried to find further evidence that might indicate another suspect. I didn't succeed that day. Eventually I decided to occupy myself with my research on the Cramer case instead. I went out to the NFESC and was all the more surprised to find out about the documents that Cmdr. Cramer gave away. I deepened the research from that point and came by the name of Minton Greenwood Inc. as a part of the tri-firm consortium that Branwick Industries belongs to. I was already suspecting that, during her absence from an important experiment that caused an accident, Cmdr. Cramer might have stolen the data to get it to Branwick Industries, as I had found out that Cmdr. Cramer's family owns the company. I secured the evidence I had found and went home. On the sidewalk in front of my house, Cmdr. Cramer shot me."  
  
Stifled gasps were again heard as the cameras all at once focused on the stone-like figure of Maryann Cramer.  
  
"Objection, your honor!" Krennick shouted. "Cmdr. Cramer is not on trial here!"  
  
"Your honor," Mac quickly cut in, "If the commander were granted the time to finish his story there would be no need for any further objections whatsoever."  
  
Judge Helfman's eyebrows shot up. "I'll allow it," she said, trying to hide her curiosity. "But make it quick, please. Overruled."  
  
"Continue, please, Commander Rabb," Mac addressed Harm, giving him a smile that warmed him from inside.  
  
"I don't know exactly if it was one or two days later that my wife came to see me in the hospital. I had been in a coma and had no control whatsoever over my body. I couldn't make anyone notice that I was conscious. But my wife nevertheless talked to me, filling me in about the newest research results in the Walden murder case. As soon as she mentioned Minton Greenwood being involved in an environmental crime that Sydney Walden had uncovered I made the connection to the Branwick case. I had wondered myself how a small firm like Branwick could stay in competition with the global players. But with the knowledge that they saved money, firstly by using illegal substances such as dimethylformamide in their production processes, and secondly by being enormously favored by Minton Greenwood, I understood that Sydney Walden's possible disclosures were an imminent threat to Branwick's efforts to prevent bankruptcy.  
  
"By then, I had recovered the ability to move my eyelid and managed to communicate my knowledge to my wife by winking 'yes' or 'no'. The JAG staff went on investigating and somehow Lt. Cmdr. Cramer must have noticed that she was the center of our focus. That's why she came after me, two days ago, knowing that I was near to defenseless. Unnoticed by the hospital staff, she got me into her car and drove out into the hills, intending to leave me outside, far away from the next village. She knew that I could never make it back on my own." Harm paused to let the news sink in. By now, even Krennick was speechless.  
  
"How did you make it back, Commander?" Mac asked.  
  
"Unbeknownst to Cmdr. Cramer, I had my cell-phone with me and managed to reach Lt. Prumetti and his fiancée who went after me, tracking the signal with the help of the phone company."  
  
Low murmurs were heard in the audience. Judge Helfman gave three quick strikes with the gavel. "Silence, please."  
  
Mac inhaled slowly. She was both dreading and looking forward to the following, the most decisive question. "Commander, do you know who killed Doctor Sydney Walden?"  
  
Harm firmly and reassuringly met her glance. "Yes, Colonel, I do."  
  
Again gasps were barely held back in the public. The camera zoomed in on Harm and Mac's faces.  
  
"Who killed her, Commander?" Mac asked.  
  
"Lieutenant Commander Maryann Cramer did."  
  
"Do you have any evidence to prove your accusations?"  
  
"Yes, I do," Harm answered firmly. At this, Captain Amy Helfman dropped her reading glasses that she had taken down from her nose the moment before.  
  
"What kind of evidence do you have?" Mac was really beginning to enjoy the interrogation.  
  
Harm was all game. "The lieutenant commander told me and I recorded it on my cell-phone's voice recorder." Harm's voice was almost serene. The TV director marveled at how such a strong, sensual undercurrent could flow even in a matter-of-fact examination if counsel and witness were in love. She knew that she would never in her life get another opportunity to film a trial like this one. Bless the Rabbs.  
  
Mac stepped to her desk and retrieved the cell-phone in question. "Would this be your cell-phone, Commander?"  
  
"Yes, Colonel."  
  
"Your honor, defense exhibit K. We have an amplifier here that I would like to connect the commander's cellular phone to, in order to listen to the recording he mentioned."  
  
Judge Helfman resolved to just let happen anything that was bound to happen now. She had lost track of the developments in this case that continued to surprise her ever more. "Go ahead, Colonel Rabb."  
  
Mac handed the phone to a technician who attached it to the amplifier. Holding her breath just like everyone else in the room, she listened, praying that their plan worked. The loudspeaker cracked as the conversation between Harm and Cramer could be heard, low but still distinct enough to be understood without mistaking the sense:  
  
["Yes, I killed Doctor Walden. I'm amazed no one found out yet. Seems I really made sure not to leave traces."  
  
"You went to her house, rang the bell, let her open the door and then you stabbed her."  
  
"If you already knew that, why ask, Commander Rabb?"  
  
"Just to make sure."  
  
"You're not in the place to investigate me any longer. So why bother?"  
  
"Just like that. Why did you do it?"  
  
"Doctor Walden had found out about the chemicals. One of MG's drivers saw her poking around the barrels in the woods, taking notes. The money we save by getting rid of our garbage like that enables Branwick to stay competitive. Branwick's my granddad's life's work and I'd do anything to save the company. Through her disclosures, Sydney Walden had endangered it. So, you see, I had no choice. It was rather fortunate that the admiral showed up when he did."  
  
"Thank you. No further questions."]  
  
The courtroom was deadly quiet. Even the admiral had paled, hearing Harm's tale and the recording. Judge Helfman was the first to find her voice as she turned to Chegwidden's MP guards. "Please arrest Lieutenant Commander Maryann Cramer for premeditated murder of Doctor Sydney Walden and double attempted murder of Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr."  
  
Maryann didn't budge. She didn't resist as the guards handcuffed her and led her away. Still no one said a word.  
  
"No further questions," Mac eventually broke the silence.  
  
"Thank you, Commander Rabb, you may step down." Helfman cleared her throat. "In the face of the new evidence brought forth by Commander and Colonel Rabb I see no need to continue with this court-martial. Lt. Cmdr. Maryann Cramer confessed that she committed the crime that Admiral Chegwidden has been charged with. May the defendant and his counsels please rise."  
  
Mac, Fred and the admiral did as they were told.  
  
For the first time today, Amy Helfman finally allowed a smile to grace her features. "Rear Admiral AJ Chegwidden, Judge Advocate General of the Navy, your name is officially cleared of all charges brought forth against you. This court-martial is dismissed. An Article-32 hearing concerning murder charges against Lt. Cmdr. Cramer will be held on Monday, 0900 sharp." The gavel fell.  
  
Cameras at once closed in from all sides on the defense. But neither member of the JAG family cared. Mac and Harm shared a long, tight embrace, much to the delight of the TV director. Then Mac turned to face a smiling AJ who had congratulated Fred to his outstanding performance.  
  
"Permission to hug the admiral, sir?" Mac's expression was one big smile.  
  
"Granted," AJ answered, smirking. The cameras instantly zoomed in on the JAG and his Chief of Staff hugging tightly.  
  
  
  
Epilogue Sun, March 14th 1546 ZULU The Naval Academy Chapel Annapolis, MD  
  
  
  
"Patricia Jeannine Rabb, I baptize you in the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit. Amen." The minister gently wetted the little girl's forehead with water and carefully dried it off afterwards.  
  
The smile had been present all day on AJ Chegwidden's face. This ceremony had been the final step needed to really make him a part of the Rabb family. When, a week ago, Harm, Mac, Bud and Harriet had approached him, telling him that they all wanted him to be Trisha's godfather instead of Bud, he had been at a loss of words. But when Bud himself had urged him to stand up for little Trisha at Harriet's side, he had readily complied. 'She may be my godchild,' he told himself, 'But I feel as if she were my grandchild instead.'  
  
AJ was holding the little girl in his arms, unaware that he was being watched by the beaming parents. Harm and Mac exchanged a warm smile and a squeeze of hands, knowing that they had made the right decision. AJ Chegwidden was family. Somehow, he had always been.  
  
When the service was over, the christening congregation met in a small but fancy Italian restaurant out of Annapolis. They had made a reservation of the whole place for the day to be able to celebrate the christening as well as the happy outcome of AJ's trial without being disturbed. Besides Harm, Mac, AJ, Harriet and Bud, only Sturgis, Tiner, Fred and Claire, Sergei and Jeannine and Harm's parents were present. Jeannine had gotten extended leave from the college, given the extraordinary events she had been involved in.  
  
The party had an exquisite meal and felt the tension of the last few weeks slowly fade away as they conversed easily with each other. Harm's pronunciation was almost back to normal. Only occasionally would he stumble over a word that had too many consonants following one another without any vowels in between. Walking with crutches was still extremely fatiguing for him, but he kept up his training and was confident to fully master it shortly. He was still on leave from JAG but luckily had no chance of getting bored at home with his little daughter around, keeping him occupied.  
  
When they had finished the second main course, AJ rose and tapped his knife to his wine glass. At once, everyone listened up.  
  
"Dear Mac, Harm and especially Trisha," AJ warmly addressed 'his' family, "If anyone had told me two weeks ago that I would be standing here today, toasting to you and celebrating with my extended working family, I'd never have believed him. I have to admit - but please keep this off-record - that at times I got pretty desperate during the murder investigation. I wanted to use this opportunity to beg your forgiveness, too, that I didn't always believe that you would actually get me out of that mess."  
  
Stifled laughter was heard as AJ's glance met with many smiling faces. "Well, your CO just undermined his authority by admitting he was wrong and tells you he is sorry. But let's leave this aside now, okay? I wanted to thank you, Mac, Harm, and you, too, Bud, that you gave me this wonderful opportunity to be part of your family in a way that goes way beyond working together. As you know," he smiled a little wryly, "I tend to be some sort of a lonesome cowboy and I am really, really grateful that I can be sure to have people around that care. Harm, Mac, I congratulate you on your perfect little girl, and I daresay, if she's anything like you, I might in time break with my firm conviction and lure her into being the first female Navy SEAL. To Trisha!" He raised his glass as laughter was heard at his final remark.  
  
Having toasted, everyone was about to join into conversation again as AJ spoke up once more. "I thought that, on a special occasion as this, one had to come up with a special gift. So...." his grin took on a decidedly nasty edge that Harm and Mac had learned to dread. He motioned to a waiter who pulled up a big TV set in front of the table, together with a video recorder.  
  
"Thirteen months ago, neither of us would have suspected that two of the most stubborn people alive would ever get their heads out of their sixes and tell each other what everyone else knew all along. It actually needed a trip to the most romantic city in the world to work the magic."  
  
A dreadful suspicion began to rise inside Harm and Mac as to what the TV was intended for. But all they could do was wait and smile, although somewhat strained.  
  
AJ went on, smirking even wider. "Our little trip to Venice was indeed a remarkable one. But one event in particular was so outstanding that I don't really think it would be fair to keep it classified any longer. Commander Rabb has always been known for... let's say... rather innovative methods to prove his theories. Until last year, I'd say that firing an automatic weapon into a courtroom ceiling was his all time high."  
  
"What?" Trish asked, laughing. Harm only shot her a blushing smile.  
  
"But Venice set new standards. I now invite you to watch for yourselves the latest episode of 'Investigating with Harm and Mac'." AJ put a cassette into the VCR and pressed 'play'. Pictures of a foggy night became visible on the TV screen. Gothic palazzos could be recognized in the background as the camcorder zoomed in on Lieutenant j.g. Federico Prumetti.  
  
["It's February 26th, 0214 ALPHA, I'm Sottotenente di Vascello Federico Prumetti, over there we have Commander Harmon Rabb, Jr. and Lieutenant Colonel Sarah Mackenzie. Neither of them has ever rowed a gondola. What we are trying to prove is that it is impossible for beginners to reach Rialto, starting from San Marco, in half an hour. Responsible for filming is Ms. Claire Farnham..."]  
  
As the whole party with growing delight watched their desperate attempts to row Fred's gondola, Mac leaned over to Harm. "You know, Harm," she whispered, "As much as I'm inclined to resent AJ for digging out the tape..." Her mouth began to twitch violently. "It was a hilarious sight when you fell into the Grand Canal..." Like a year ago, fits of laughter made it impossible for her to go on.  
  
Harm's frown only showed for the fraction of a second. Then, as another memory invaded his thoughts, a radiant warm smile spread over his face. He gently took Mac's hand in his and brought it to his lips. "You know, Mac," he whispered back. "As much as I'm inclined to resent you for laughing at my expense..." His smile became breathtaking once again. "It was my fall into the Canal that really started our relationship, the day after. Remember?"  
  
"Of course I remember, flyboy. It was me who hugged you in the first place. But, did I ever thank you for deciding to take a bath in the icy water of the lagoon just to have me?" Mac smiled at him lovingly.  
  
Again he kissed her fingertips, returning her smile. "No, you didn't. But you know what, Marine? I'd do it all over again."  
  
  
  
THE END 


End file.
